Slow Motion
by FeistyFeist
Summary: He makes it through his first semester and then drops out.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own the Outsiders. SE Hinton does. Bow to her.

A random dream inspired story. Meh.

Please review.

*

He makes it through his first semester and then during the last month of school drops out.

He can't finish. He didn't even have a chance take his finals, which is how he knows he's really failing. Although, even before he was finished, he was still crapping out at biology and as luck would have it, English. His best subject right down the drain along with the rest of him.

It's simple really. He doesn't register for spring classes, cancels his financial aid, and misses the last month of his classes. No one's the wiser; hell, he wasn't even. Everything had been going fine up until the last month. And now…now he's never wanted so badly to be gone from a place.

So the boy says goodbye—_good riddance_—to the people on his floor without even bothering to tell them he won't be back. He's so anxious to leave this place he barely packs, only taking his most important possessions: _Gone with the Wind_, a photo of his parents, a note Soda had written him before he left. The rest can sit to rot.

The Christmas break will give him the time he needs to breathe. At least he hopes. Tulsa is where he can work on his story, get rid of the nightmares.

His hands still shake and his memory's still not right. Words don't mean as much as they used to. He's fortunate if he makes it a day without forgetting a random fact.

He can't trust his self anymore.

*

The ride on the bus is quiet. Having a free seat to his self, Ponyboy curls up against the window. He twitches once and shuts his eyes thinking of his family back at home.

They volunteered to come and pick him up but Pony didn't want them anywhere near the University. It would just be a sneaky deceit. In fact, Ponyboy hasn't even let them know he's coming back tonight. He shudders. Pony can't walk by campus without his skin crawling. So he left, running from something he's worked for his whole life. Regret doesn't even hit him he's so far sunk.

*

It wasn't his fault. And even though he accuses himself that it is, it's a lie. He couldn't help it. But Ponyboy can just imagine what Darry would say. His imagination runs wild until the boy decides it's not worth it to tell anyone.

It's just not.

Pony crawls off the bus amid a snowy and frosty Oklahoma winter. The bus driver watches the kid pause on the dock, clenching his eyes shut as if in pain. The kid moves ahead, grabbing a taxi and the bus driver speeds off, thinking of his own family waiting for him.

It's dark even though it's not late. Ponyboy burrows himself, once again, against the window of the taxicab. He pictures his home, giving the driver his address, stuttering over the street numbers, and settles in for the drive. Pony rubs his palms together. The familiar buildings passing him by don't relieve him, instead making him more nervous. Here, back in Tulsa, people know him. Truly know him.

You idiot," he mutters, wondering what he's doing. They're not stupid; his brothers will know something's up. But he doesn't care. He needs this.

The cab pulls up to the familiar house and Ponyboy hands the driver cash that he's earned at his work-study job. The porch light is on. A veritable junkyard of cars lines the driveway and suddenly Pony is weak in the knees.

*

At first he expects everything to be different. But then he opens the door and remembers he's only been gone five months. Darry's nowhere to be seen but Sodapop and Steve are. Soda, huddled over a game of cards at the kitchen table, doesn't glance up.

"Dar, if that's you," Soda's saying, "Can you get me a beer? Because Steve ain't being no help."

Steve grunts, face buried in his cards.

Pony sets the small duffel bag he's brought down. "Hey Sodapop."

And that's all he needs to say. Twisting around at the kitchen table, Soda's grin rivals the sun. "Kiddo!" Then he's on his feet rushing his brother, hugging him like he's never done before. They're nearly the same height now, Ponyboy a bit shorter, but Soda gets him in a good grasp just like he used to.

After a moment, Ponyboy stumbles back out of Soda's embrace and his brother gets a good look at the youngest one. "Jesus," Soda says, gripping Ponyboy's arm. The boy's frail.

Caught up in his emotion, Ponyboy throws himself back in his brother's arms. "I missed you, Soda. I missed you so much."

Shocked at Pony's appearance, Soda doesn't say much. Instead he strokes Pony's hair and shoots Steve a worried glance. He doesn't ask any more questions of Ponyboy and lets him go to sleep in the room they used to share a mere five months ago.

*

Saturday afternoon rolls around before Darry strolls into the house. Soda's making grilled cheese and drinking a beer. Darry sets his keys on the kitchen table. "I'll take one of those."

"What? The beer or the sandwich?"

"Sandwich."

Soda chuckles. "Doesn't Alice feed you?" He butters another piece of white bread and slaps it into the pan. "Ponyboy got home last night. About ten or so."

In the process of removing his jacket, Darry pauses. "Why didn't you call me?" He drapes it over the back of the chair, bits of snow melting on the brown cotton. "I would've come home." Darry eyes the faithful calendar on the fridge counting down to the Christmas holiday. Pony's a few days early.

Smirking Soda says, "It was late. I figured you were…busy." He flips the sandwiches. "He's still asleep."

Darry frowns, glancing back towards the hallway. "How'd he get home?"

"Took a bus I guess. Surprised me, I didn't know he was coming this weekend."

"Me either." Darry takes the plate Soda holds out. He takes a bite of the sandwich, sitting down at the table. "It's good he's back," Darry muses, chewing.

"Yeah, it is."

"So why don't you look happy?" Darry asks, taking in Soda's all-too-mellow face.

"_He_ don't look happy, Dar." Soda nods at the bedroom. "Just go see."

Darry goes.

*

"Hey, kiddo," Darry says in a low voice. He touches Pony's back. His brother, buried beneath the layers of blankets, doesn't stir. "Ponyboy. You awake?"

Ponyboy sighs softly. "I am now." He wiggles but doesn't emerge. Ponyboy doesn't remember sleep being this good or the last time he's slept without the walls closing in.

"You could have called me," Darry says. "One of us woulda came and got you." Ponyboy doesn't say anything so Darry shakes him again. "You wanna come outta there and come get some lunch?"

Another sigh. "Not really."

Rolling his eyes, Darry stands. "Come on, get up." He gives the burrowed lump on the bed a doubtful look and exits the room.

*

When Ponyboy shuffles into the kitchen 20 minutes later, Darry looks like someone who's just been socked in the face. His brother's rail thin; eyes are sunken, distant, not a hint of the athletic boy he's been.

Ponyboy crosses his arms, leaning in the doorway. "What's for lunch?"

"Slightly soggy grilled cheese." Soda gestures at the plate sitting on the table. "Sit down, enjoy my cooking once again."

Pony smiles slightly, sitting down next to Darry. He wipes his sleepy eyes.

"So, how'd your first semester go, kiddo?" Darry asks.

Paling, Ponyboy picks up the triangle slice of sandwich, holding it awkwardly. "It went okay." Darry keeps staring at him, so Ponyboy just stares at the sandwich in his hand. "Not much different than high school."

Sodapop laughs. "You ain't gotta be modest, kiddo. We all know you're aces."

"Yeah. Right." It's odd, but Darry can swear Ponyboy shakes his head like he's trying to clear it of cobwebs. Disgusted, Ponyboy throws the sandwich back down. "I'm a goddamn brainiac," he snaps.

"Whoa!" Sodapop says, caught off guard at the unexpected outburst. "What're you talking about?" Sodapop glances at Darry: _see-what-I-mean_?

"Ponyboy, what's going on?" Darry asks. He goes to touch Pony's arm and Pony jumps a mile. "Are you in trouble or something?"

Ponyboy blinks, biting his lip, thinking Darry never trusts him. He crosses his arms, the long sleeved shirt he's wearing, falling over his hands. "I'm sorry guys. Finals were just really tough. I think…I think I probably flunked 'em all."

"Nah," Soda drawls, ruffling his russet-colored hair. "I know you, you done your best. You'll see."

Darry nods. "You're a hard worker." Ponyboy and even Sodapop look surprised at Darry's admission and Darry suddenly feels lower than dirt, realizing that while he's thought it often, he's never said this aloud to Ponyboy. So he reiterates it, to make his point.

"You _are_, kiddo."

*

Ponyboy catches Soda watching him. Pony sets his book down, drawing his feet underneath him. "What's up, Soda?"

Soda smiles. "I'm just glad you're back. Two-Bit can't wait to see you. I think he's bringing over a 24-pack just for the occasion."

The thought of beer makes Pony's stomach curl. He draws the sleeves of his shirt down. Soda's still watching him. "Aw, come on Soda. Quit starin at me. What's goin on?"

Plopping next to Ponyboy on the couch, Soda wraps an arm around his next. "You're kind of skinny, kiddo." He pokes a jestful finger into Pony's side, wincing as he hits a rib. "They ain't feeding you at college?" What Soda really wants to say is: _You look like shit. You look exhausted and miserable and I'll be damned if you weigh what you should_.

"I'm just out of shape." Pony shrugs, wanting to go back to his book. "Too busy to eat." But he appreciates Soda's neutrality.

Soda rubs his hands together gleefully. "Not to worry, we'll feed you." Soda's dark eyes swipe over his brother. "We really missed you. I know we should have visited more."

"It's not your fault," Pony says. "We were both busy."

Soda sits back. "Yeah, well. It's no excuse." His eyes light up. "And we have you for a month, so be prepared."

_Not just a month_, Pony wants to say but clasps his mouth shut. It's not the time.

*

The cuts on the insides of his forearms are about healed, turning to raised white scars. They're long, beginning at the base of the wrist and moving up to the inside of the crook of his elbow. Pony hopes the scars fade; wearing long-sleeved shirts won't be an option in the summer.

They weren't that deep but they're ugly all the same.

*

"What'd you think of the flick?"

"It was okay."

"Kid, I think those are the only words I've heard out of your mouth the last two days." Two-Bit stares at his friend, wondering when the life will shoot back into him, perking him up. According to an ever-anxious Darry, all he's done since being back is sleep. Ponyboy speaks like he has trouble remembering what's next; his words stilted and precise.

"I mean, I take you out, pay for your movie, give you priceless jokes and all you can say is "it was okay"?" Two-Bit cocks an eyebrow. "Hell, even Kathy puts out better than that."

"Guess you better take her out then."

"Oh, don't think I won't."

Two-Bit pulls his truck into the Curtis's driveway, waving to Sodapop and Steve. "So how about this disaster?" Two-Bit asks Ponyboy, his eyes brushing over the silent boy.

The Curtis garage has been turned into a regular auto-body shop. Soda, figuring everyone came to the DX for him and Steve anyways, decided to do some "freelance" work. As news got out, business got better and Steve and Soda bum out at the house every day, doing what they love with no boss around to worry about.

Ponyboy watches Sodapop snap a windshield wiper against Steve's thigh. Soda mouths something and Steve tosses him a random car part. Ponyboy smiles as if it's the only thing he's happy about these days.

"Soda's done real good."

*

"Ponyboy," Darry calls out.

"What, Dar?" Darry's textbooks are strewn across the floor and Ponyboy gets a slight pang in his gut. Two-Bit bypasses him for the fridge.

Darry comes out from his room, shooting daggers at the window. The sounds of Soda and Steve playing the radio and lighting a blowtorch float inside. "Why do they have to be so goddamn loud?" He looks at his brother. "Ponyboy—"

"Aw, you ain't never home anyways," Two-Bit interrupts. He raises an eyebrow at Pony. "Most days he's doing the walk of shame back from his girl's place."

Darry's face turns red and Ponyboy smiles thinly. "So, I take it Alice is doing well?" Pony asks. Two-Bit chuckles, relieved the kid's cracked a joke.

Darry rolls his eyes. "Not you too." He hands Ponyboy a piece of paper. "Listen, someone called for you. A, uh, Richard Morrow. Wants you to call him back."

_Not likely_, Pony thinks, crumpling the paper in his fist. "Thanks."

"Who's that?" Darry asks, leaning down to retrieve his books, trying not to sound like he's prodding. "Someone from school?"

"Yeah, just someone I know."

*

_It's the weekend of Thanksgiving; Darry has to work overtime and Ponyboy has a midterm. Too busy for a visit, they each beg off. And so a bit hurt by Darry's distance and getting talked into it by his roommate, Ponyboy goes to a kegger at one of the frat houses._

_It's good. The music's good, the girls are good, and the energy would have sent Soda into a spiral. He drinks enough for a light buzz, keeping in mind the studying he has to make up for in the morning. Pony reaches for his last beer. _

*

Please review.

This is a short, short. A few more chapters to come.

FYI: The story title is inspired by Third Eye Blind's "Slow Motion".

Happy Thanksgiving weekend everyone!


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own the Outsiders. SE Hinton does.

Please review. Thanks to those who read/reviewed Chapter one.

*

"I don't really care." Pony takes a breath, halting his anxiety, and points. "That one."

Soda motions to the guy working the Christmas tree lot. "Hey man…we'll take that one…" Trailing off, he follows the worker to show him the correct tree.

Steve fixes Pony with an annoyed stare but the kid's too lost in his thoughts to notice. "Hey," Steve snaps. "You think you could show a little interest in this?" Soda's trying all he can do to bring his kid brother out of whatever funk he's in.

"Sorry," Pony murmurs absentmindedly.

Steve sighs, giving up the fight. The kid looks like shit. So he tries to make petty conversation instead. "Soda says you took psych 101."

"Yeah, I tried to."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." Ponyboy's eyes focus on Steve. "Why?"

"I need some help studying for my final," Steve mentions casually. "Ain't doing so hot." Ponyboy nods but Steve doubts the kid hears him. Soda walks back and Ponyboy pulls out his wallet, offering to pay for the tree. Soda shakes his head, patting his brother's shoulder.

They put the tree in Steve's truck and head home.

*

"Pony, do you want a cup of cider?" Alice offers. She's small and bubbly, blonde ringlets framing her face. They've met once before Ponyboy left for college.

"No thanks." Pony says, sitting on the edge of the couch, watching Soda and Two-Bit fight over decorating the tree. Steve supervises, reading a magazine and barking orders half-heartedly. Two-Bit finds the box with the fake snow and proceeds to dump it on top of Steve's head.

"Two-Bit, I'm about to strangle someone with the tinsel," Darry growls, scooting around his brother and girlfriend to answer the ringing phone. "Can you take a guess who that is?"

"Now that's the Christmas spirit, Dar," Soda laughs, brushing flecks of white from Steve.

Alice pulls out the tree topper from the box of decorations. She hands it to Ponyboy. "Here." She nods at the tree, smiling. "Just so they don't have all the fun."

"Pony. It's for you." Darry holds the receiver out.

Pony doesn't move. "Who is it?"

"I don't know. They didn't say."

Ponyboy stands, tossing the tree topper to Sodapop. Pony moves towards the kitchen, gripping the phone. "Hello. Yes," he says. Pony shuts his eyes and it's obvious to Darry he's uncomfortable.

Alice wraps an arm around Darry's waist as he watches his brother out of the corner of his eye. Ponyboy sags against the doorway. Alice begins chattering about what they'll do for Christmas, how they'll split their time but Darry's eyes never leave Ponyboy. The voice on the other line was unfamiliar; older.

"I know," Pony says. "I can't talk—" Pony puts a hand over his mouth, and then hangs up with a loud, angry clatter.

*

Pony twists on the couch, dreaming. The blood was so red; Johnny and Dal so alive it wasn't funny. But they laughed and Ponyboy slammed his arms down. They hit glass. They dragged.

*

He practices telling them. In front of the mirror, when he's showering, walking to the grocery store. But no matter how many times he practices, memorizes the words, nothing sounds right.

Pony finally gives up trying.

He's a coward with everything to say.

*

_Someone drops a lot of somethings into Pony's beer. It's resting on the counter top, only three feet away from the boy. A joke that isn't funny. They just dropped in the tablets and Ponyboy picked up his cup, unassuming. The carbonated frothy beverage rolling down his throat. _

_About twenty minutes later, Ponyboy gets a rush he's never experienced. Colors all turn bright and spin around him. It's good at first; a pleasing experience. Others hoot, dancing, drinking, smoking. _

_Pony wants to fly, to go, to just be. He sees double. Ponyboy holds his hands in front of his face and laughs in pleasure._

_He's moving. He's so happy. His soul is awake._

*

The cigarette he's smoking is about to be put out. It falls from his mouth into the dirt as Ponyboy sinks onto the front step. It's snowing heavily but it's of no matter. He's made it outside now he can let loose. The panic attack comes on fast and fierce. They don't usually last very long but it's enough that it would worry those inside.

Pony's breath picks up, lightheadedness drifting down. He grips the porch's post and gets lost in memories.

Pony's realized something these last few days; he's envious. Why did he have to leave to have a different—a better—life according to them? They all stayed and while it's not exactly different, it's not the same.

They moved on for the better – Soda and Steve have their own makeshift business (who'd have thought), Darry's dating, going to college part-time, even _Steve's_ going to community college, and Two-Bit's living with Kathy.

They're happy. And that's important. It's what everyone really wants, isn't it?

So why did _he_ have to leave? Why was he left out?

"Take the full ride," Darry had encouraged when he got into Oklahoma State University. Soda, although it had been difficult and painful for him, nodded in agreement.

"Do it."

And so he went, two hours away to a world outside his. In actuality, not far from his brothers; after all, he could have been at the University of Texas. But when there's homework to do and jobs to work, basically lives to live, those planned weekend visits have to settle for a phone call.

Pony didn't want to go away from Tulsa but Darry wanted him to and Pony felt he owed Darry that. He knows it's not fair to lay blame on Darry, who meant well, but it's the truth. Once at college, Pony liked it, loved it even. His own time, his freedom. It was an adjustment being away from his brothers, friends, his hometown, but he made due.

But now he can't stomach it.

Shivering, Ponyboy buries his face in his hands, the tingling and numbness leaving him. His breath calms. It's over.

*

One afternoon he reaches for the phone and wishes he hadn't. He's alone and so he has to listen to the familiar voice on the other line. "I wish you would have told me you were going."

"What does it matter? Can you stop calling here?"

"Ponyboy, you may have failed your classes but you weren't done for." There's a long pause. "Have you told your brothers?"

"No."

"You have to tell them."

"I know that, Sam. Just not…now."

The voice on the other line sighs. "This is not something you can deal with on your own. Or lie about. Or cover up with excuses."

"I _know_. I'm fine."

"It's understandable you're depressed."

Ponyboy closes his eyes, sinking onto the couch. He just wants the voice to go away.

"Ponyboy, as your doctor, as a _friend_, I advise you to seek out your family. Tell them. It was a traumatic experience, which completely upset your sense of self, your life. College is hard enough without dealing with what was thrown at you."

"I dropped _out_!" Ponyboy cries. "Darry will never understand! He won't understand a thing! He'll hate me."

"They _will_ understand. They'll _help_ you. It was not your fault. You don't have to come back—that's not the important thing. It's you—you're the one who needs help." Pony's head sticks; images jumbling together and he wonders if he'll ever be right. Sam continues, concerned for his patient. "Do you want Sarah to come down there? She's worried about—"

"Stop it! Stop it!" Ponyboy hollers. He takes a shaky breath. "I have to go." He hangs up.

He's embarrassed. But it's reasonable for his scrambled mindset. Ponyboy, a strong, forceful child, doesn't think anyone will understand, have sympathy. Pony stares at the white scars lining his arms.

*

"Did you just get up?" Soda asks, glancing at Ponyboy who's moseyed out to visit Steve and him in the garage. It's two in the afternoon. Pony nods, unconcerned and Soda sighs. "You should go put a coat on, kiddo."

Snow's falling fast and fierce. They can hear the wind howling outside. Pony just keeps his arms crossed against his chest, his ears bright red.

Steve plops down on a stool. "While you're out here, might as well make yourself useful for once." Ignoring Soda's warning glare, Steve reaches under the toolbox and pulls out a psychology textbook. "Last final's tomorrow and I just can't get this shit."

"Please, help him." Soda laughs. "Between Freud and all his complexes, I can't listen to much more."

Steve snorts. "Freud's a twisted bastard." He nods at Ponyboy. "Page 142."

Pony reluctantly takes the book. It's a dead weight in his hand. "I don't think I'll be much help," he says slowly.

"Sure you will." Soda's dark eyes get even darker. "You told me that after English, psych was your favorite subject. You got an A on the midterm."

"Yeah, I did." Pony licks his dry lips and remembers. He flips the book to the instructed page. The words and sentences blur together forming mush. But he reads anyways; asking the questions that Steve needs to know.

*

Soda finds Darry in the basement, rummaging through cardboard boxes. "It's supposed to blizzard this week." Darry sits back on his heels. "Where did I put those goddamned blankets…?"

"I think they're in our closet," Soda says. "I'll get 'em."

Darry stands up, groaning and raising a wry brow. "Knees ain't like they used to be." Soda's quiet and seeing that he's bothered, Darry sits on the bottom of the basement step. "Something on your mind, Sodapop?"

"Dar," Soda begins. "I think…I think something's wrong with Ponyboy." When Darry sighs Soda continues. "He's lying about shit and sleeping all the time. He's acting like he's fine but he ain't."

Soda feels like he's lost the connection between him and his youngest brother. Whatever Pony wants to hide, he's buried it deep.

Darry rubs his hands together, knuckles cracking. "Sodapop, I was thinkin the same thing."

*

Upstairs, Ponyboy traces the long vertical scar on the inside of his left arm. It's raised, pale white like a piece of twine. He rubs salve onto it and once again puts on another long sleeved shirt. Ponyboy cocks his head, shaking away his angry thoughts.

"You're losing it," he mutters. "Get a goddamn grip."

*

_He's beginning to feel odd, as if his skin is moving on its own. "Holy crap," he whispers, moving away from prying eyes. Pony's thoughts begin racing, morphing into disgusting visions of a dying Johnny Cade and Dallas Winston. Then they're with him. Ponyboy stumbles away from his friends but they follow._

"_You should have drowned," Dallas's voice says. _

"_No, no," Pony mutters, sinking to the floor. He touches his temple, feeling the heat brandishing from his scalp. He's so hot, he needs water. But everyone's laughing and ignorant or either uncaring about his trip. He doesn't like the way he's feeling now. It frightens him. He wants Darry. Darry would know what to do._

"_Yes, yes," Johnny says. "Why did _I _die, Ponyboy? I deserved a chance!"_

"_What's wrong?" Pony shouts. "What's wrong with me?"_

_A dead-eyed kid says, "Oh man, you're flying."_

_A redheaded girl kneels in front of him; she sticks her tongue out showing him a purple tablet with a heart on it. "How many you take?" _

"_Oh god," Pony moans. His vision blurs, Johnny and Dallas continue to scream at him. Everybody wants him dead. Dead and gone._

*

Please review.

Pardon typos.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own the Outsiders. SE Hinton does.

Cursing involved in this chapter. Sensitive subject matter.

Pardon typos.

Please review. They are much appreciated and my happiness abounds…

*

Steve chugs his beer, watching Two-Bit with narrow eyes. He points at his friend. "I swear to God, if you get another strike—"

"Like this, Stevie?" Two-Bit screeches and whips his bowling ball down the aisle. The pins explode with a fierce scream. Ponyboy high fives Two-Bit.

"Goddamn it!" Steve turns to Sodapop. "How can we be losing to him? This is ridiculous."

Even Sodapop looks befuddled. "I ain't got the slightest idea."

"I'm the wildcard." Two-Bit snakes around to stick his tongue out at Steve. "You never know what I'm about to do."

"Keep talking, idiot," Steve snaps, his competitive edge warring its head. He grabs his bowling ball and readies himself on the lane. Soda scrutinizes Steve's form. Rearing back into a low squat, Steve takes three steps forward and then releases the ball.

Steve pumps his arm. "Stee-rike!"

Two-Bit sits next to Pony, massaging his shoulders with exaggeration. "You think you can do this, kiddo? Win this for us?"

Pony straightens up. "Don't I always?"

Soda smiles, relieved; the last day his brother's been in good spirits. He got up before noon and left the house for more than an hour. Soda watches his brother stroll up, hook his fingers into the ball and aim and throw. The bowling ball skids down the lane. Never wavering it shatters the pins. Turning around, Ponyboy's green eyes gleam.

Two-Bit chortles and Steve swears.

"Champions once again!" Two-Bit dances a quick jig and then grabs his beer, the plastic cup malleable in his fist. He takes a long sip and then holds it out to Ponyboy. "Want a victory gulp?"

Ponyboy shakes his head, taking a step away from the beer. "No, it's okay."

"You ain't 14 anymore," Soda laughs, lounging on a chair. He hands Ponyboy the score sheet. "Go on, have a drink if you want."

Steve rips his shoes off. "What's wrong? You don't like beer anymore?"

"Maybe later," Pony says.

*

He hasn't read a book in more than a month. Sam says it's all in his mind but maybe it _is_ his mind. When he sees words or tries to piece a sentence together he has to think long and hard about what he wants to say. Something just doesn't connect.

Ponyboy tries not to think about it very much. But he loves English, he's a writer; he uses words for expression, to make sense out of the inanimate, to enjoy. If those don't work what else is broken?

He falls asleep on the couch, a copy of _Catch-22_ lying on the floor, untouched.

*

Darry finds Pony on the couch, curled into a fetal position. He's both relieved and slightly annoyed to find Pony sleeping. He's been trying to call for the last two hours. Unable to get anyone to answer, he stopped home for lunch.

Darry knows it's going to blizzard and wants to send Pony out for groceries so they're prepared for the holidays. But he doesn't have it in his heart to wake his brother. Instead he sweeps him off the couch, marveling at how light he is, and lays him on Soda's bed.

*

"Pony?" Darry taps on the bathroom door the next morning. It opens slightly. "You want to take a ride to the store with me?"

In the process of changing, Ponyboy jumps. "Jesus, Darry!" Panicked, he tugs a shirt over his head, making sure his arms are covered.

Darry props the door open wider, smiling at his brother who's wearing only boxers and a long-sleeved shirt. "Did you hear what I said, kiddo? You want to go to the store for some groceries?"

Soda clambers through the back door. He whistles at Ponyboy. "Got a show goin on in here?" Then he grabs a dishrag and is gone again. Ponyboy steps into his jeans.

"Sure, Darry."

*

Darry slams a fist against the truck's heater. Ponyboy raises an eyebrow, shivering. "I thought Soda fixed it."

"Soda always fixes it," Darry responds, still fiddling with the heat. "It just always breaks." Leaning across his brother, Darry pulls an extra pair of gloves from the aptly named glove box. "Put these on."

Darry's surprised when Ponyboy volunteers conversation. "You seem to like Alice." Pony's green eyes watch him closely.

"Uh, yeah, I do."

"Are you going to move in together?"

"I'm not sure, Pone," Darry says slowly. "I don't think so. At least, not yet. I stay over there enough anyways."

Darry glances at Ponyboy; he's still unsure how this dating thing should go. Even though Ponyboy and Sodapop probably care less about what he does in his relationships, Darry still can't help factoring in his brothers. "I was thinking about having her over for Christmas Eve."

"That's good." Pony smiles. "As long as she doesn't mind chocolate everything."

Darry chuckles. "I think her and Sodapop will have a field day." Darry squints at the thick snow hitting his windshield. He flicks on his wipers. "At least these work," he mutters, slowing at a stop light.

"You haven't said much about school, kiddo," Darry says.

"Nothin to say really."

"I bet you're excited for track next semester. Although, I'd imagine coach will want you to put some weight back on."

"I'm not running track anymore."

Darry nearly steers the truck off the road. It slips on the ice and he quickly rights it. "What? Why in the hell not?"

Ponyboy scowls. "I just don't want to. I'm sick of it."

_Oh bullshit_, Darry thinks, eyes narrowing. But he drops it. For now. He's not going to fight with his brother here, even though he wants to.

*

They get the groceries, stocking up on food for the holidays. Darry runs into a few familiar faces and has to stand around chatting, re-introducing Ponyboy and acting like his brother is just as normal as he was when he left. Pony just nods and smiles, giving one-syllable answers when required.

Forgetting a few items on the list, Darry has to make another quick trip around the store. Ponyboy wanders down the aisles, searching for the missing items. Grumbling, Darry tosses a loaf of bread into the cart. He makes a mental note to send Two-Bit the next time they need food. He and Steve practically live at the house anyways.

There's a loud bang from one of the aisles, sounding like a shelf's been knocked over. Darry thinks nothing of it until Ponyboy rounds the corner. "I'm sorry," he's saying. "I'm really sorry."

The motherly female clerk gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "It's okay, sweetie."

"What happened?" Darry asks when Pony slinks up to him. He's sweaty and pale.

"I knocked over a display," Ponyboy says. "I didn't mean to." And Ponyboy looks so sorry, so apologetic it just breaks Darry's heart.

*

Soda corners him in the bedroom. "I heard you quit track."

Exhausted, Ponyboy rubs his eyes. "Let it go Sodapop." Knocking over the canned soup display this afternoon didn't do a lot for his nerves.

"Why would you do that, Pone? You're a great runner." Confused, Soda gestures at Ponyboy. "You not running is like Two-Bit giving up beer. It's not the way it should be."

_Stop it_, Pony wants to say. _Stop having faith in me because I'll just disappoint you_. _I already have, you just don't know it yet._ He's still so sad, so backwards. It confuses him; he thought being home would sort him out. But even though it calms him, it's not working.

"It's just not for me anymore," he says.

"I don't buy that for one minute."

Soda sits on the edge of the bed, wiping his grease-tinged hands against his jeans. "Pony what's going on? And don't tell me nothing because I _know_ you, kiddo. You don't talk, you don't eat, you practically hibernate in this house…" Soda looks at Pony who's wedged himself into a corner of the room. "You're starting to scare me."

_Just tell him_, Pony thinks. His mouth opens and then Steve flies into the bedroom. Finding Soda he says, "Hey, that broad's calling about her Rolls. Do you want me to tell her to screw off or—"

Steve takes in Soda's expression, Pony's stance and curses. "Shit. Sorry."

"It's okay," Ponyboy murmurs, sidestepping Steve. "I'm gonna help Darry with dinner."

"Don't forget to eat it," Steve calls out. Ponyboy shoots Steve a nasty glare. Steve turns back to Soda who's doing the same. "What? He needs to shape up. Stop moping. I can tell you college ain't all that bad. Maybe he needs to have some fun."

"Don't." Soda's shaking his head. "Don't start with him and don't start with me."

*

"_Stop!' Pony shouts, clasping his hands over his ears._

"_Oh man," some girl laughs. _

_His heart feels like it's going to explode, Pony's arm twitches, the hallucinations, the dead, getting to him. Needing air, he whips a window open. Paranoia circles him as a fresh breeze greets his face and he gulps it in. Six feet below, the cement beckons. A hand grabs his shoulder. _

"_What the fuck!" It's Pony's roommate. _

_The noise, the anger gets to him. Instead of jumping, free-falling like he wants to do, Ponyboy smashes his fists through the glass window. It shatters and then, caught up in the drug, he slams the inside of his arms onto the dull, broken glass of the window sill, dragging it from elbow to wrist._

*

Pardon typos.

Please review.

Just a quick note to those who have asked – No, the story is not based on the song _Slow Motion_, just inspired the title. And no, this does not involve rape.

And yes, never leave drinks unattended.


	4. Chapter 4

SE Hinton own The Outsiders.

Please review. Much appreciated….

*

"Here," Darry grunts. "I found you a shirt."

Ponyboy bites his lip, wishing he were home and asleep. But Darry insisted on taking him shopping for school clothes. Clothes he won't need for next semester. Darry adds the shirt to the small pile in Pony's arms.

The mall's crowded and obnoxious. Pony's run into a few high school classmates, most of them having stuck it out in Tulsa, giving him looks of envy and approval when Darry tells them he's back for Christmas. They shouldn't bother.

"You really don't have to get me clothes, Dar."

"I saw what you had when you left for college, Ponyboy. Soda's hand-me downs and winter clothes. You need at least a few new things." Darry places a hand on Pony's shoulder, steering him towards a dressing room. "Now go on."

Inside the dressing room, Ponyboy tries on the clothes without a glance. He doesn't want anything, let alone Darry to spend money. He puts the shirt on Darry has given him and freezes. It's short-sleeved, revealing his long, scarred arms.

Suddenly, he feels so worthless. He wants to have died that night; anything to forget this feeling. He's ungrateful and all of his problems he's just shoveling off on Darry and Sodapop. _They'll never go away_, he thinks, staring at the scars. _No matter what Sarah says_.

Darry pounds on the door and Ponyboy jumps, wrapping his arms around himself. "What, Dar?"

"How do they fit?"

Pony rips the t-shirt off, throwing it in the corner of the dressing room. He pulls on his shirt and jacket, grabbing up a pair of jeans and a sweater. He opens the door. "I like these."

"That's all? Believe me, it won't break the bank if I buy you a few more things."

"Dar, I just want to get out of the mall. I hate the crowds." Pony grins.

Darry takes the clothes. "Me too, Pone." Darry wraps an arm around Pony's neck, an odd lump in his throat. "I'm glad you're home, kiddo."

*

It's midnight. Pony wakes to an empty house. Being alone frightens him and before panic can take over, he finds them in the garage. Both his brother's are wrapped up in big jackets; Soda's smoking and Darry's fiddling with the radio.

Ponyboy's sleepy eyes squint into the dim light. "What're you two doin out here?"

Soda grins at Pony's disheveled hair. "Talking, smoking."

Ponyboy abruptly gets the feeling that they do this often. Hang out, talk about things Pony doesn't know. How much he's missed out on he'll never know; but it eats at him just the same. It shouldn't bother him but it does.

*

"I thought grades were supposed to come before Christmas?" Darry asks Ponyboy a day later.

"You didn't get them yet?" Ponyboy's voice is a whisper. He knocks his spoon off the table, leaning down to pick it off the floor.

Soda, his mouth full of oatmeal, says, "Mail's slow." He gives Darry a frown, remembering what kind of outburst Ponyboy had last time when they brought up his finals. It's not that Soda doesn't want to rock the boat; he just wants Christmas to be good for his brothers.

"I'm just curious," Darry mutters, defensive. He sets another spoon in front Ponyboy, taking the fallen one. Pony takes a small bite of oatmeal, chewing slowly. He's on edge; he can feel Darry pacing behind him.

"Do you get any time off work for Christmas, Dar?" Soda asks.

"Yeah, a few days." Darry pours himself another cup of coffee. "We're slow this time of year."

"We should do something," Soda says, leaning back in the chair. Pony's still chewing on his first bite, watching quietly. His hair's a deep russet—more brown than red from what Sodapop remembers—but his eyes are dull.

Darry nods, but Soda can tell he's distracted. "Like what?"

"I don't know…? Camping?"

"We'd freeze to death." Darry smiles and then eyes his youngest brother. "Pony…" Darry begins. "What are you planning to do now that you're not running track?" Darry can't keep the disappointment from his voice.

"What does it matter?" Pony's wince is brief, but it's there.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a lot of spare time..."

"I probably will. But I'll let you know if I take up another hobby since I'm sure you'll have an opinion on that too."

Soda, in the middle of taking a drink of orange juice, chokes on the liquid. Ponyboy reaches over, pounding him on the back.

*

"Soda, what's going on man? It's an oil change and you switched out the brake pads."

"Shit."

Soda lights a smoke and Steve sighs. The only time Soda smokes is when he's worried. And when he's worried, it's usually about Ponyboy. "Is it the kid? Because I know I'm right. You just gotta kick his ass a little—"

"Did someone mention asses?" Two-Bit strolls inside the garage, shoving the side door shut against the wind and snow. The garage's windows are frozen over with ice. The few space heaters keeping the garage warm as best they can.

"I told you, lay off of him." Soda juts his cigarette at Steve. "He got you that B on your final, asshole."

Steve smirks. "Barely." Soda rolls his eyes.

Two-Bit sticks his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "So what's the news?" He picks up a wrench from the work bench, twirling it between his fingers like a baton.

Soda unlatches the tailgate of the truck they're working on and sits down. "Did you know he quit track?"

Two-Bit gawks at him. "No shit." Steve just stays quiet, watching Sodapop.

"Something about it 'not being for him'. What a load of shit..."

"He is…acting mighty strange lately," Two-Bit says, choosing his words carefully. "No offense, Sodapop, but sometimes it's like talking to a wall."

Soda scowls, rubbing his hands together to warm them. "I just don't know what to do. He's so goddamn stubborn."

"Well," Steve points out. "At least _that_ hasn't changed."

*

Alice bounces on over to the house the day before Christmas Eve. She brings her own pans and utensils, laying them out on the counter top. She counts them in her mind, doing inventory of what pan will hold which dish.

"What's wrong with mine?" Darry asks, injured.

"Yours are boys. They're beat up." Gently, picks up a frying pan. It's polished handle gleams in the light. "See? Perfect." Darry snorts and ignoring this, she asks, "Now. Ham or turkey tomorrow?"

"Pony?" Darry asks the house, knowing Soda's gone god knows where. "You want ham or turkey tomorrow?"

There's a long pause and then, "I don't care." The front door opens and slams.

"Of course he doesn't," Darry mutters. "I swear to Christ he gave me less shit when he lived here." Frustrated, he holds his hands out to Alice. "Cook 'em both for all I care." Darry storms out of the kitchen.

Alice looks at her perfect pans and sighs.

*

"Want a smoke?" Two-Bit asks as Pony comes outside.

"No."

Two-Bit twists around on the bench. His hands are jammed in his pockets, warming them. It's a veritable blizzard outside.

"You quit?"

"Something like that."

Ponyboy can't smoke. The addiction just reminds him of that night. Smoking, smoke in the room, his hallucination, burning lungs, burning up, burning—

Two-Bit nods. "That's good. Did you tell Darry?"

"What does it matter?"

"You don't give yourself enough credit."

*

_Pony touches his thumping chest. His heart is so loud. "Can anyone hear that?" he asks the room, blood still dripping down his arms._

"_Here," his roommate hands him a towel._

_The room spins and Ponyboy hits the ground. "Soda?" he asks. There's a can cracking and then someone sets a Pepsi next to him. Ponyboy giggles and then smacks the drink aside. The brown liquid syrup sinks into the knees of his jeans._

_*_

It's Christmas Eve and Pony's never felt so shitty. He wakes at nine in the morning, considers going back to sleep and then crawls out of bed. Keeping up his normal front is tiring and even he can tell it's not fooling anyone.

"Can I help with anything?" he asks Alice who's already over at the house. She's slept there the night before, but Ponyboy, going to bed without saying goodnight, doesn't know this.

"No," she smiles and Ponyboy realizes just how pretty she is. She's Darry's type; sweet, small but strong when she needs to be. "You just go get changed."

Pony eyes the ham and the turkey resting on the countertop. "Um, I don't think Darry really wanted you to cook both of them."

She props her hands on her hips. "Well, I am. And he can just deal with it."

Ponyboy laughs at her indignation and scoots off for the shower.

*

Two-Bit dumps the pumpkin pie batter in the pie crust. "Hi, Betty Crocker," Ponyboy says, fresh from the shower. He pads past Two-Bit, hair fluffy from its air-dry.

"Hey-ho, kiddo," Two-Bit drawls. "Thought I'd help ol' Alice out for a bit since the rest of the boys are smoking in the garage."

"You're such a good wife."

"And I put out too. That's something to be thankful for."

Laughing, Pony sits at the table. He slips some socks on. "Where's Kathy?"

"Aw, my little lady was needed at her mom's house. Not too sure how that's gonna go since Kathy can't cook worth a—" Two-Bit eyes, Alice, selecting a milder curse. "—damn."

Alice turns the oven on. "That's too bad. I was looking forward to meeting her." As Two-Bit promises a next time, and Alice giggles, Ponyboy shuts his eyes.

Pony's made up his mind that today will be a good day. He rallied, gave himself a pep talk in the shower. He'll smile and get through it. His family has always put a lot into Christmas; Darry more than ever since their parents died, carrying out traditions, making their own. It's important to Darry; them all being together, not having to work. Pony can't give up the ghost. He won't. It's important. It's necessary for his—

Just then the phone rings.

*

"I want to talk to you," the silky voice on the other end of the line says. Despite its sweetness, the voice is spitting mad. "Baby, I know you're there."

Stricken, Ponyboy stands numbly in the middle of the room. Alice glances at him. "You okay, honey?" Although, she doesn't know him very well, she's beginning to see what Darry's getting so worked up about.

Two-Bit pokes his head out. "Kid?"

Ponyboy gulps and nods. He stares at the Christmas tree and the lights blur. "—seeing you one way or the other. I'ma mind to come down there—"

"No!" He shouts and eyes turn. "No, Sarah, I'll meet you. Really."

"Okay. Where?"

He gives her the address and hangs up. His hands shake. "What's goin on, Pone?" Two-Bit asks, raising a concerned brow.

"Nothing."

Pony leaves the house, finding his brothers and Steve in the garage. They're sitting in the bed of a busted pickup truck, playing cards and smoking cigars. The smoke's thick, burning Pony's nostrils. It's freezing in the garage and Pony wonders how they can stand it. All their noses are bright red.

"Can I borrow the truck?"

Darry frowns. "Where're you going? It's Christmas Eve."

"I forgot something at the store."

Soda ashes his cigar. "Everything'll be closed."

"No, it won't." Pony says this lightly, trying not to let them see how jumpy he really is. "I'll be quick. 'Sides we're not eating until later right? Six?"

Darry pats his pockets. Finding the keys, he hands them to his brother. "Fine. Just drive careful," he says. "The snow's getting worse." Worried, he watches Ponyboy tear out of the garage.

"I'll raise you," Steve tells Soda. Soda calls him. Suddenly, the air rips with the sound of a revving engine, tires squealing in panic. Soda sets his cards down, eyeing Darry.

*

"_He doesn't look too good," someone unseen says._

_A hand touches his face."What'd you do to this poor kid?" It's a female voice; a woman's and a girl's combined._

"_It was just supposed to be a joke…"_

"_Yeah, well, real funny. This kid's OD'ing. I'm taking him to my dad."_

"_He'll narc—"_

"_Get the hell outta my way, Jake."_

_Another voice. "He's burning up, Sarah." Another hand._

_Burning. Just like Johnny. Ponyboy watches smoke pool into the room, around his arms, into his mouth. Ponyboy chokes on it and begins to scream._

*

Pardon typos.

And not to worry, Sarah will be explained in the next chapter.

Please review!!


	5. Chapter 5

SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

Cursing in this chapter.

Please review…they are much welcomed. Thanks to all who read…

*

Soda was right; nothing much is open. The streets are dead to the world. Pony parks Darry's truck haphazardly against the curb, kicking at snow as he jumps out.

He finds her in the back booth of Myrtle's Diner. The door chimes, a sign taped to it that says: _Closing at 4 pm on Christmas Eve_. The clock on the wall reads noon. Sarah Morrow stirs her coffee, waiting for him.

"Hi," he says, sliding into the booth. The waitress behind the counter gives him a funny look but he ignores it.

"Bout time." Sarah sets the spoon down. Her dark eyes brush over him. "Oh baby, you ain't been eating. From the looks of you, you ain't been doing much of anything."

"Does sleeping count? Sarah, what do you want?" It's overwhelming, the hopelessness; Pony just wants to get her gone.

"It's Christmas. I wanted to bring you your gift." Graceful black fingers slide a neatly wrapped present across the table. "But you can't open it until tomorrow."

Pony stares at her. Sarah sighs. "I know what you told my daddy. And I do believe you, Ponyboy. I just really had to see if you were okay."

"Does it look like I am?"

"Don't you dare be throwin yourself a pity party. That shit's done with. You gotta get right."

"Yeah, well I don't feel goddamn right," Ponyboy snaps. He slams his fist on the table, rattling the salt and pepper shakers. "And I've been trying. You _know_ that."

"I do."

"So why then? Why can't I shake this…this _shit_?"

"Daddy says it sticks with you. A bad trip. It'll sort itself out." Sarah smiles. "Patience is a virtue, baby."

"I ain't got time for patience."

"You gotta make time. You're twisting yourself all around inside."

Ponyboy rubs his gaunt face. "Sometimes I don't know what to do anymore. I really don't."

Sarah leans across the table. She takes Pony's hand, moving his sleeve up to the elbow. Her thumb traces the long white vertical scar. "They're healing well."

Sarah evaluates the boy who's stumbled into her life. "You're like my brother. You know that? I ain't known you too long and we sure as hell don't match, but I'd claim you as mine. I'd help you through anything. But I'm just not them."

Downing her coffee she says, "Tell your brothers when you're ready. But _tell_ them."

"I will."

"Now go on home."

Weakly, Pony crawls out of the booth. "Tell Sam hi."

Sarah holds the present out to him. "Don't forget this."

*

Pony nearly slams into a tree as he pulls away from the diner but gets a grip on the truck, its wheels sticking slipping on the ice. The snow's ferociously abnormal for Tulsa.

They're still in the garage when he gets back. He gives Darry the keys. "What'd you get?" Sodapop asks, glancing up from his cards.

"You were right," Ponyboy says. "Everything was closed."

*

Alice is finishing up dinner when three smoky and slightly tipsy guys barrel in from the garage. Darry kisses Alice on the lips and she wrinkles her nose. "Oh, Darry…" She fans him away. "You stink."

Darry laughs. "You do stink." Ponyboy rounds the corner. "You smell like smoke."

Darry raises an eyebrow. "And that bothers you?"

"It's because you quit isn't it?" Two-Bit hollers, sticking his head out of the kitchen. Pony nods and Two-Bit looks at Darrel just in case Darry didn't get the newsflash. "He quit."

"You _quit_ smoking?" Darry asks, shocked but pleased. "When did this happen?"

There's a long pause, Ponyboy's throat catching, and then he volunteers in a whisper, "Last month…"

Darry chuckles. "Now I know why you were so upset whenever I talked to you on the phone."

*

Surprisingly they make it through dessert before table conversation turns to Ponyboy. They're all a bit loose; the guys drinking whiskey and Alice wine. Darry watches Ponyboy pick at his food. Soda and Steve are arguing about the correct way to deep-fry the turkey tomorrow and Darry wonders who'll be the first one with third degree burns.

"You should inject it with beer," Two-Bit puts in.

Alice asks, "Ponyboy, is your food okay?"

"Oh yeah, it's great." Pony smiles with false enthusiasm. "I'm just not that hungry."

An awkward silence falls around the table. Alice takes a sip of her wine and clears her throat. "What classes have you signed up for next year?" She smiles encouragingly.

"Um…you know the usual. Math, science…"

Soda makes a face. "The boring stuff huh?" Relieved, Pony smiles and nods but then Two-Bit jumps in.

"I think the kid'll major in books."

"You can't major in books, idiot," Steve snaps.

"English?" Soda adds helpfully.

"No, no," Two-Bit says. "Maybe he'll major in Circus Theatrics. Oh! Or maybe Deep Sea Fishing…?"

"Two-Bit," Darry's shaking his head. "The very fact that you think those are actual classes, scares me."

"Well, you know what scares me Darry…"

Pony picks up his water glass and sets it back down without taking a drink, listening to the conversation about him and school. He can't even imagine setting foot on a campus again, let alone choosing a major. And so, he removes himself, staring at his plate, his right leg bouncing up and down underneath the table.

Steve groans loudly, interrupting the table chatter. "_Look_, I just got done with school for the semester. And the last thing I want—" he nods at Darry and Pony "— and I'm sure what _they_ want, is to talk about school or homework or majors when we ain't got to. So, shut the hell up, Two-Bit or change the goddamn subject." Soda begins to clap.

"Where's your school spirit, Stevie?" Two-Bit grins.

"Sure as hell not here." Steve wolfs down his last bite of pumpkin pie.

*

Soda helps Pony with the dishes while Darry and Alice have coffee in the living room. Two-Bit and Steve are long since gone, going to be with their own families. Ponyboy scrubs rhythmically, almost trance-like; water coolly moving between his fingers. He's thinking about Sarah and their conversation. The ends of the sleeves of his shirt are soaked in the dishwater.

Soda takes the pan Pony hands him and dries it. "Pone? You know what we should do tonight?"

"Hmmm?"

"Remember that one Christmas when you wanted to stay up late and wait for Santa?" Soda raises an eyebrow when Ponyboy glances at him. "What do you say?"

"It ain't gonna be like last time is it?" Pony fixes Soda with a suspicious gaze.

"No, kiddo, I promise, it ain't gonna be like last time. Believe me, I learned my lesson. I was young…I was cold…"

"Aw, Soda, we'll freeze our asses off."

"No we won't. We'll bundle up good, kiddo."

*

"Dinner was real good, Al," Darry says, giving his girlfriend's hand a squeeze. They're hovering by the front door, ready to call it a night. "I don't think I'll be able to eat tomorrow."

"I'm sure you'll make room." Alice grins, checking her watch. "You be sure to stop by tomorrow, if only to say hi to my parents."

"I will." There's a rustle and Alice watches Ponyboy and Sodapop disappear upstairs. Her face clouds over. Darry shakes his head. "Listen, sorry about my brother…he's usually not so..."

Alice waves the apology away. "It's not that…I was just wondering if he's…okay. He seems a lot different than when I last met him."

Darry grins. "You met him once, Al."

She pokes him in the stomach. "Yes, and I'm a very good judge of character." Propping a hand on the wall, she says, "Maybe I'm just being silly…but um…do you think he's depressed or something?"

"What?"

"I'm not an expert but it's just the first thought that popped into my mind."

Darry stares at her stupidly, wanting to tell her she's wrong, she's _crazy_, _Pony's fine_, but he just can't. Because if other people can see that something's off then it's just not in Darry's head. He gives in. "I know. I _know_ something's up. Usually Soda can get him to talk by now." Darry holds Alice's gaze for a moment and then breaks away. He runs a thumb down his cheek, scratching his bristle.

"_You_ should talk to him."

"Look, Al, it's Christmas. Do you know how much of a shit I'll be for bringing this up tomorrow? Especially if there's nothing wrong. Knowing Ponyboy, he'll argue, I'll yell and Soda will get pissed at the both of us."

Darry shoulders slump. "But I will. I'll talk to him."

*

"You can see all the stars tonight." Soda wraps his arms tighter against his chest, trying to ignore his shivering. After all, it was his bright idea.

Ponyboy glances up, resting a gloved hand on the snowy rooftop. The sky's clear, stars glowing high above. For the first time in a while, he's calm. He can breathe out here, albeit shakily.

"It's gonna be cold tomorrow."

"How's that?"

"No clouds mean warmth escapes. If it's cloudy…air is…trapped. I think." Ponyboy blows hot breath from his mouth; it goes white in the night air. He wonders how, out of all things, he pulled that out of his crumpled memory.

Soda glances down at the yard. Darry's walking Alice to her car. They lean towards each other, speaking quietly. Pony watches Soda from the corner of his eye.

"Soda," Ponyboy ventures. "How come you don't date?"

"I date, kiddo."

"No, you don't. You don't…_date_. You fool around but I never see you with anyone like Alice." Pony lowers his eyes. "You never like anyone the way you liked Sandy." Pony still remembers Soda's conversation about love and Sandy. It's stuck with him this long and he can tell it has with Sodapop too.

Soda's still for a long minute. "I reckon…well, I just like it better. You know I ain't a chicken, Pone…but, I tell you…it's just easier."

"There." He turns to Pony. "Satisfied? Now how come I tell you all my secrets and I ain't heard none of yours?"

"I'll tell you one day," Pony says. In the white glow of the moon and the darkness of the night, Ponyboy looks spooky. Soda draws back, evaluating his brother.

"What?" Pony asks.

"You look different, kiddo." And Soda wishes he knew why.

Distracted by the slamming car door, the brothers glance down to see Darry walking back to the house. Alice drives off. Grinning, Soda sticks his leg out, kicking snow from the roof. A pillow of white slides off, tumbling down.

"Wait for it…" Soda sings.

Then there's a shocked, "What the hell—" and Darry backs up to stare at the roof, brushing snow from his face and hair. Finally, he manages to focus on the two dark shapes that are his brothers and flashes back to when Soda was ten and left Pony on the roof alone simply because he was cold and tired of waiting for Santa Claus.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me…" Darry mutters.

*

Inside, Soda scoots off to bed, leaving Ponyboy to tidy up the messy living room. He flicks on the table lamp, rearranging the couch cushions Two-Bit upended and throwing away Steve's empty beer cans with a grimace.

Darry wanders into the dusky living room. "Both of you make it down from the roof? Or did you leave Sodapop up there?"

Ponyboy glances up, smiling slightly. "I should have. Payback." He moves around Darry; Darry stopping him before he can slink off to the bedroom.

"I didn't tell you earlier, but I'm real proud of you for giving up smoking. Track or not. I know it was hard."

"It wasn't too bad." And it wasn't; not with other things on his mind.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were busy…I was busy…I just forgot."

"Hey." Darry grabs Pony's arm as his brother turns to leave.

"What's wrong, Dar?"

Darry evaluates Pony's blank face and decides to wait. "Nothin, kiddo. Go to sleep."

"Okay. G'night."

"Night, Pony."

*

_Ponyboy squirms in the back of the station wagon. Gentle hands hold him down._

_The voice speaks again, coming from up ahead. "Don't you worry, hon. I'm takin you to my daddy. He'll fix you up real fine." Silence and then, "He all right back there Janey?"_

"_He's cool. Ain't you…kid? What's your name anyways?" The voice mutters, hands touching him all over, patting his side, his pockets. A sigh. "I think they took his wallet, Sarah."_

"_Those bastards…passing that shit around…"_

_Ponyboy twitches, trying to get away from the hands, which burn his skin. Despite his protests, they grip his shoulders. "Shit, he's freakin out, Sarah..."_

"_Hold him tight!"_

_Pony twitches once, trying to grab for the windows but he passes out before he can get very far._

*

Pardon typos.

Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

OK, so many apologies for the long wait. Seriously. Mucho sorry. Writing block = bad news.

Disclaimer: As usual, I do not own The Outsiders. SE Hinton does.

Please read and review…and have a Happy Holiday! Stay warm and safe!

*

Ponyboy wakes early. It's barely five am and he can't sleep; a rare feat for him. He washes his face, brushes his teeth and finally remembers that it's Christmas. "Oh no," he tells the mirror.

The boy dashes for his duffel bag. He pulls out the gifts he's bought for Darry and Soda nearly two months ago and his palms sweat. In the midst of everything, he forgot what he brought for his brothers; an Oklahoma State University cap for Sodapop and a coffee mug for Darry.

The slap in the face doesn't feel so hot and Pony ends up staring the Christmas gifts down, wishing they'd disappear. He can't give his brothers nothing but giving them these is a lie. Fighting his breath, he glances at the ceiling, knowing he doesn't have much of a choice.

*

"Get in here, it's freezing." Soda opens the front door, tapping on the screen.

With a last look at the falling snow, Ponyboy leaves the porch for the living room. Soda has a blanket wrapped around himself, his eyes clouded with sleep. "It's so early," he whines.

Ponyboy smiles. "It's nine, Soda."

Soda plops on the couch. "Well, it feels early." Soda yawns, appraising his brother who's standing next to the Christmas tree. "How long have you been up?"

"A few hours."

"Darry still sleepin?"

"I'd say so."

"You know what we should do?"

"What?"

Soda grins. "Wake him up. Like the good old days."

"Sure," Pony says, smiling wistfully. "Like the good old days."

Soda's already off the couch, heading for Darry's room, ready to pounce, when all of a sudden he pauses and walks back towards Ponyboy. He touches Pony's shoulder, grateful his brother is home. "Merry Christmas, kiddo."

"Merry Christmas, Sodapop."

*

"It isn't anything…really…" Ponyboy folds his legs underneath himself, reclining back against the couch.

"Are you kidding?" Soda says, shaking his baseball cap open. "It's great – my replacement DX cap." He puts the cap on, adjusting it to his head. Grinning, he nods at Darry who's holding his OSU mug. "And you know he'll use that with all the coffee he drinks."

Darry raises the mug like he's making a toast. "I'll put it to good use, don't worry Ponyboy." Noticing Ponyboy's quiet, Darry asks, "Do you like your books?"

"You don't have them already do you?" Reaching over, Soda picks up _Catch-22, _turning the book over in his palms.

"They're great," Pony says. "I can't wait to read them." But he stares at the books, the titles, the words blending over and over again in his mind, jumbled confusion threatening his senses. Shaking out of his daze, he raises his head, smiling robotically.

"They're really great," he repeats.

*

_He wakes up in the infirmary. Most of it's a blur._

_His arms are bandaged tight, numb against the pain he should be feeling. The doctor tells Ponyboy that he overdosed on Ecstasy. "You could have died," the doctor says his black face solemn. _

_Samuel Morrow holds Pony's hand._

_Pony thinks of his brothers and begins to cry._

*

Soda's showering, Darry's changing and Ponyboy's on the phone. Anyone entering the house would see the telephone and its cord strung through the kitchen, into the hallway and underneath Ponyboy's bedroom door. Ponyboy punches in familiar numbers and waits. He has to talk to someone.

"Hello, Morrow residence."

Ponyboy doesn't even say hello. "Is your dad there? Samuel?"

"Sure, sure," she reassures, not even put off. "Let me get him." There's a faint rustle and then Samuel's on the line.

"Ponyboy? What's going on, son?"

"Sam…I keep lying." Ponyboy's sitting on the floor, near the door, the receiver clenched against his ear. "I keep trying to tell them but I can't. I gave them their gifts." There's disgust in his voice.

"Ponyboy," Sam's voice is gentle, smooth. "When you're ready you will know and it will come easily. You can't force it."

"But it's like a countdown. I only have two weeks left and that's just…it's just…What should I do?" Pony rubs his eyes, feeling like a horrible person.

"Take a breath. Calm down. You're not a bad person, you're not a liar. You're their brother, they will understand." Sam repeats what Ponyboy should know. The boy is fragile but he's still smart and Sam hopes he will understand in time.

"Ponyboy, go enjoy Christmas with your family."

Ponyboy slumps. "I'm sorry, it's Christmas, you shouldn't—"

Sam chuckles. "Don't you worry about that. You can call here any time."

"Thanks, Sam…"

"Here, Sarah wants to talk to you."

"Did you open my gift?"

"What?" Then, remembering the small wrapped box, his eyes widen. "Oh no—" He doesn't know where he put it. _Darry's truck somewhere_, his mind recounts.

Sarah sighs. "Ponyboy, you better go find that. You can't go and lose my Christmas present."

"I will, I forgot it in the—" Hearing voices, Ponyboy drops the receiver, picks it back up, tells Sarah he has to go and hangs up the phone.

*

Ponyboy bumps into Darry. "Where're you going?" he asks, seeing Darry holding the truck keys.

"I'm going over to Alice's real quick. She wants me to meet her folks. Is that okay?"

"Sure, why wouldn't it be?" Pony snaps, annoyed. He doesn't know why he is; only that Darry's leaving them for another piece of his life Ponyboy has no involvement in.

Ignoring Pony's comment, Darry's eyes brush over Pony who's holding the telephone in his hand. "Who were you talking to?"

"A friend from school."

He may not be lying but Darry can tell Pony's nervous about something. It's getting harder for Darry to ignore, Alice's words still stuck in his mind. "Well, go on and help Soda with dinner."

"Oh sure, Darry," Soda calls from the kitchen. "You go out and get your kicks and we'll stay here and cook."

Darry tries to reason. "I'm meeting her parents, Sodapop."

"Likely story, Dar. Likely story."

Darry turns red. "You need a supervisor!" he hollers back. "I'm not eating purple mashed potatoes again. Or gummy bears." Soda starts laughing. Darry rolls his eyes and turns back to Ponyboy, whose face is stony.

"Go on, kiddo. Try and have some fun."

"I _am_ having fun," Pony replies, wishing mightily he could get at those keys. Darry just gives him a look and leaves the house.

*

Eventually, he does have fun.

Soda cranks the radio; Elvis and the Rolling Stones flooding the kitchen. Their attempt at cooking turns into a game of cards. Ponyboy forgets his stress. Christmas will never be the same without their parents, but he's very thankful he has his brothers.

"I say we just cook spaghetti," Soda says. "It's easier."

"Much more simple," Ponyboy agrees, evaluating his hand. "Besides, it's gonna be hard to cook a turkey when it's still frozen."

Soda blushes. "I know, I _know_ it's my fault. But we don't really need it do we? Alice cooked enough yesterday."

Pony nods. "Leftovers work."

The phone rings and Ponyboy bristles, thinking it's Sarah or Sam. Soda scoots out from his chair, picks up the shrill phone and listens. After a quick moment, he hangs up. "Steve's coming over," he tells Ponyboy.

*

_Pony spends the next week in the infirmary, extremely confused and depressed – a side effect of coming down from an overdose, he's told. He lies in bed listlessly. _

_When asked if he'd like to call anyone, he tells them his parents are dead. _

_No one says much more. _

*

Darry sits in his truck, listening to the weather forecast before he goes inside his house.

He's back from Alice's, well fed and bearing gifts. Her parents were less worrisome than Darry had thought; mother sweet like her daughter, the father easy-going. But he shouldn't have been worried. He always does well with parents – seen as responsible, polite, adult. Soda's the one parents worry about. One look at his face and it's all over.

The snow's falling crazily; the radio warning that a major blizzard is coming in a few hours. Darry's wondering if they have enough flashlights, blankets and all the necessary equipment just in case the meteorologists are right for once and Tulsa gets snowed in.

Darry twists the radio dial and then jumps a mile as there's a tap at his window. "Jesus," he exhales. He pops his door open. "What're you doin Ponyboy, trying to give me a heart attack?"

Ponyboy's standing in the street, wrapped in Darry's old jacket. He grins, looking better than when Darry last left him. "Sorry, Dar."

Shutting the truck off, Darry climbs out, grabbing the presents Alice gave him. "Soda burn the kitchen down yet?"

"Nope." Pony sticks his hands in his pockets. "We're having spaghetti. He didn't defrost the turkey."

Darry just laughs. "Why am I not surprised?" He slams the driver's door shut, moving towards the house. Ponyboy continues standing next to the truck. "You coming in?"

"Yeah, in just a sec. I think I dropped my lighter in here yesterday…"

"You don't smoke anymore."

"Yeah, but other people do." Ponyboy gives him a smile. "I'll be in, go on."

*

"Damn it," Pony mutters, trying to feel around on the floor of the truck for Sarah's present. "Where are you?"

Unable to get good momentum in Darry's jacket, he strips it off, arms bare for once after throwing on a quick t-shirt. His long lanky body drapes across the seat, reaching blindly. Suddenly, there's a loud bang against the side of the truck, like someone kicking metal.

Panicked, Ponyboy pulls back and out of the truck, smacking his head on the doorframe. Wheeling around, he sees Steve Randle smirking at him over the hood of the truck. Ponyboy rubs his head, muttering soft curses.

"Sorry about that kid," Steve says. "Couldn't resist."

Despite the iciness of the air, Ponyboy instantly goes hot all over as Steve stares at him. Grabbing up the jacket, Ponyboy slips it back on, crossing his arms protectively. Steve barely gets a good look, but it's enough.

"Ponyboy, what the hell happened?"

"What're you talking about?" Pony slams Darry's door shut, briskly walking around Steve.

Steve grabs his shoulder. "You know what I mean. Your arm—"

"Don't touch me." Ponyboy twists out of Steve's grasp.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?"

"Just leave me alone, Steve. Or tell Soda. I don't care anymore."

"Bullshit," Steve says, seeing the fear on Pony's face. "I don't know what the hell's goin on, but I ain't telling Sodapop a damn thing. Because if you think I'm going to do your dirty work and tell your brothers you're shit out of luck. That's your job, not mine."

Ponyboy blanches; thinking himself a coward, knowing it _would_ be easier if Steve told someone.

But Steve's words are harsher than his voice; the way the kid moves, the way he breathes, makes Steve worried he's going someplace far and distant. "Whatever it is you're hiding they're going to figure it out."

Then the worst thing Steve can possibly imagine happens: Ponyboy's face screws up really tight and the kid sags against the truck. "I dropped out, Steve. I flunked—I screwed up bad."

Ponyboy covers his mouth, like he can't believe what he's just said, looking relieved nonetheless. Sam was right; it just came out.

The two of them stand there, in the falling snow; Steve, confused and shocked, Ponyboy, sick to his stomach. Steve Randle's the last person he ever wanted to spill the truth to. But he's almost beyond caring, too tired to act.

Steve doesn't have an easy rebuttal, unsure of what to do with Pony's admission. Instead, he holds out a hand. "Do you have a smoke?"

"I quit."

"Well, you sure picked a hell of a time. Maybe you should take it back up again, kid. For _my_ nerves."

"Look." Ponyboy sighs. "I'll tell them. Just not today. It's Christmas."

*

Pardon typos. Please review.

I am hoping, really crossing my fingers that this is not dragging out. A few more chapters to go.

As always, thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own The Outsiders. SE Hinton does.

Happy New Year! Please read and review.

*

_The girl who helped him visits – she's the doctor's daughter. Sarah's tall, with deep black skin and brown eyes. She's serious, a grad student at Oklahoma State, a wonder to Ponyboy in his day and age. _

"_I saw what those idiots done to you," Sarah says to the pale-faced boy. "I'm just sorry I didn't catch them sooner." She touches his bandaged arm. "Are you sure you don't have anyone I can call?"_

*

Ponyboy takes over washing the dishes after the dinner of leftover turkey and spaghetti. Soda declared the combination "fit for a king", but by the way his stomach is protesting Ponyboy isn't too sure. He ate what he could to appease his brothers. Silently, he watches Soda and Steve leave the house for the garage and he wonders if Steve will tell after all.

A hand on his shoulder makes him jump. It's Darry.

"You want some coffee?"

"No. Thanks though."

Darry pulls a coffee filter from the cabinet. Expertly he measures four tablespoons of black coffee and begins brewing a strong batch. He sets his OSU mug on the counter; Ponyboy eyes it warily.

"Did you have a good Christmas, Ponyboy?"

"Of course, Dar." Pony wipes his soapy hands on a dishtowel and leans back against the sink to get a better view of his brother. "It's just good to be home."

"It goes fast though, doesn't it?"

The kitchen's quiet, almost awkward when Ponyboy decides to test something. He picks up a washrag, dunking his hands in the warm water and goes back to the dishes. "Sometimes I sure wish I didn't have to go back." Breath freezes in his throat, hands shake beneath the water.

Darry chuckles. "Don't get me wrong, we'd love to have you here…but college is important." The coffee stops brewing and Darry pours himself a cup. "You're gonna get somewhere."

"But—"

"But what?"

Ponyboy bites his lip. "But don't you think you can go somewhere without a degree? Without college even?" Ponyboy wants Darry to be lax, to agree that college is not the be-all, end-all; setting Ponyboy at ease before Pony spills the news. But he sincerely doubts the brother he knows so well will say anything different to ease his mind.

"It's important. Anyone who can get away from this neighborhood should." Darry frowns. "You know that, Ponyboy."

"But—look at Soda."

"Look at Curly Shepard." Darry sighs. His brother's thin face is sullen. "C'mon, why are we even having this conversation, kiddo? I know you're worried about your final grades but you're gonna do swell."

Mutely, Ponyboy nods his head. He finishes the dishes, plays a quick game of cards with Darry and then slinks off to the bedroom, more afraid now about telling Darry than he ever was.

*

Ponyboy avoids everyone for the next few days. He can feel Darry lingering, wanting to question; Steve watching when he thinks he's not looking. Eventually, Darry and Soda go back to work and Ponyboy goes back to pretending.

He still can't find Sarah's present and for some reason he's glad.

*

"I don't know why I'm here…" Ponyboy twists his hands together. The snow's matted under his boots. "You can't help me with anything." The boy stares in the direction of the two grungy headstones wishing they could give him answers.

The cemetery's quiet. Here he can think; get away. The blizzard's finally hit, but despite Darry's warning, Ponyboy took the truck and came to the spot where his parents were laid to rest. It's been too long—already six months since he's last seen them. Back when everything was normal.

He covers his eyes with a gloved hand and squats beside the markers. His voice is muffled. "I'm really messed up. I keep making the same, stupid mistakes and I can't seem to do anything right." Pony clears his throat. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. Any of this."

Pony stands. "I really miss you." He wipes his eyes again and leaves his parents.

*

When he gets back to the truck it won't start. Pony tries more times than he can count but the engine just won't turn over. He sits in the truck for a moment, contemplating the irony of freezing to death in the cemetery where his parents are buried.

He zips his jacket up, sticks the keys in his pocket and begins the quick hike into town.

*

The blizzard is fierce. Pony didn't give it enough credit. The walk into town should have only taken him fifteen minutes but it's taken him thirty. He's at the corner of Belleview Boulevard and Jessup Street, next to Myrtle's Diner when a familiar looking car rolls up alongside him.

The passenger side door cocks open and then Curly Shepard is grinning at him. "Well, I heard you were back in town. Prodigal brother returns."

"You gonna offer me a ride or what, Curly?"

"I would. But I ain't goin past your place."

Pony climbs inside the warm car. "I'm goin wherever you are."

Curly smirks and guns the engine. "Somehow I doubt that."

*

Curly drives straight to Sadie's, a dive bar with loud jukebox music and a reputation for the best fights in town. Sidling inside, Curly bellies up to the bar, Ponyboy following. They situate themselves on the high bar stools and Curly lights up a cigarette, wispy tendrils of smoke floating in the air. Curly asks if Pony's drinking and Pony says he is. Pony rubs his still-cold hands on his jeans to warm them.

The bartender sets a shot of whiskey and a beer chaser in front of them. Curly takes the shot and the beer, Ponyboy simply swallowing the shot. Beer isn't his forte anymore.

"Hell, I ain't never known liquor to pass your lips. Are you sure you're Darry Curtis's little brother?" Curly raises a brow. "In the flesh?"

Annoyed, Pony rolls his eyes. He'll never escape his halo. "I've progressed."

Curly gestures for two more shots. He raises his glass. "To progress." Ponyboy clinks his own against Curly's and downs it.

They sit in silence, the jukebox playing faint echoes of Conway Twitty. The whiskey is good on such a cold day, warming Ponyboy's stomach and calming his worries. He runs a hand down his arm, feeling the thin scar beneath his sleeve. "Why're we here Curly?"

"I got drafted, Ponyboy. My number's up."

The answer's unexpected and it's Curly's voice, scared, serious, that causes Ponyboy to sit back on his stool and blink at the hood he's known for most of his life.

"Aw, no, Curly. Shit."

"Yep. Got the letter in the mail today. Weather be damned."

Pony presses his hands on the bar, the smooth wood cool. "I'm really sorry, Curly." He doesn't know what else to say.

Curly shakes his head, chugging the beer the bartender sets in front of him. "At least you're set. You're lucky. Me—I don't really care I guess. I ain't doin nothing anyways." Curly's Adam's apple bobs. "I fight here. I'll fight there."

_They ain't Socs_, Pony thinks, rubbing his temple, _And I ain't that lucky_. But he doesn't say this. Instead he asks, "Another drink?"

"Shit yeah."

As Pony's third, and then his fourth shot hit his stomach he begins to burn with a happy tenderness. Curly begins talking about the time they played chicken with the ends of their glowing cigarettes and everything seemed so easy back then. Curly orders them each another drink and soon Ponyboy begins to wants to jump out of his skin. Nothing makes sense, everything's out of order.

They drink for a while more until Pony blacks out. After a moment or two of internal debate, Curly calls the house. It's not his fault if Ponyboy Curtis can't hold his liquor.

*

Two-Bit's the one who answers. Darry's at Alice's and Soda and Steve off to the junkyard for scrap metal. The only reason Two-Bit's in the house is to take the kid out for some fun. But it looks like the kid found it on his own.

"Where is he?" Two-Bit snaps at Curly.

Curly raises his hands. "Hey man," he slurs. "He just slurped it down. Not my problem. You're lucky I called at all."

"You _are_ goddamn lucky. Now where is the kid?"

Curly points and Two-Bit finds him at the bar. Pony's passed out cold on the tabletop, his long arm draped across his face. Two-Bit shakes the boy. "Wake up."

After much deliberation, Ponyboy raises his head, lidded eyes greeting Two-Bit. "What'd you want?"

"Surly ain't you? Although I'm sure college has given you some practice." Two-Bit pulls out a bar stool, sitting next to the 17-year-old. "What are you doing, drinking by your lonesome?"

"As they say," Pony giggles. "Drowning my sorrows."

"What'd you have to drown, Ponyboy?"

Pony doesn't reply, instead trying to stand and staggering like a dead weight. Two-Bit catches him, wrapping an around Pony's shoulder. "You ready to go home? You ain't gonna hurl on me are you?"

"No, Two-Bit," Pony says with drunken exasperation. "I ain't gonna."

*

Pony passes out again in Two-Bit's truck.

Two-Bit gets him home and pours him into bed. He watches the kid for a moment, wanting to smack him for getting shit-faced at ten in the morning and being so lightweight that he's dead to the world.

Darry comes home for lunch and Two-Bit relays the story. "I put him in your room," Two-Bit says. "He's a goner—passed out like that." Two-Bit snaps his fingers. "No clue where the truck is."

*

Pony rolls over and Soda smoothes his hair back. It's dark outside.

"How do you feel?"

"Sick," Pony says, moaning.

"You sure drank enough."

"No I didn't."

*

_Eventually, he comes around and gets released._

_The first thing he does is call his brothers. Pony has to deal with a fuming Darry but makes up an excuse that sticks. Darry buys it so easily that Ponyboy begins to realize the disconnect. They think he's fine, they're fine. Everyone's moved on; he's the one falling behind. _

_He goes back to class. At least he tries to. He's missed so much already even the doctor's paperwork can't get him out of his homework. Finals are in a week and he can't think straight. His visits to class drop off; he stays in his room more often than not and sleeps when sleep will have him. He's depressed, unable to shake his funk. Everything seems black, there's no light at the end of any tunnel. _

_He doesn't want to but Sam Morrow makes him come in every day to talk. It's uncomfortable sharing his thoughts with a complete stranger but soon Pony finds it easier to bare his soul to an unknown. It's safer, less invasive. The doctor's kind, his deep voice soothing. _

_Sometimes Sarah's there. _

_She lets him stay at her apartment too. He can't stand the dorm, his roommate who offers excuses and asks questions. He needs to be away from campus. Ponyboy sleeps in the guest bedroom, where photos of Sarah's deceased mother and brother stare at him. "They died a year ago." _

_Sarah's in her late twenties, working on a thesis at the graduate school. In what subject, Ponyboy can't remember. He wonders how she can do it, with all her adversity, when he can't and she laughs. "You can do anything. You'll see." _

_Sarah frowns at his diminished appetite, tells him to do the best he can with his studying and raises an eyebrow at his quiet. But she understands. And it's all he needs. It's a weird situation but Ponyboy knows that if he didn't have Sarah or Dr. Morrow he might not be alive at the moment. _

*

It's quiet the next morning. Darry shakes Ponyboy. "Pony, where's the truck?"

"What?" Pony burrows into the blankets.

Darry sighs, trying to control his temper. "The truck you borrowed yesterday. Remember? Before you drank yourself into oblivion?"

"It's at the cemetery. The battery or engine died. I don't know. Soda would."

"Keys?"

"In the pocket of my coat."

The bed shifts as Darry gets up, finding Pony's coat on the floor. There's a faint rustle and then the jingle of keys. Darry murmurs something inaudible and then Sodapop's saying, "I'll take you, Dar."

"We'll be back," Darry says.

*

A few minutes later, Ponyboy gets up, cloudiness still in his brain. He feels lower than dirt and it's not from the whiskey. He groans into his hand and then leaves the bedroom. He washes his face, brushes the film away from his teeth and makes up his mind to tell his brothers when they get back. He can't do it anymore. Lie, treat them like crap, treat his own self like crap.

He changes into a tattered pair of jeans and a gray long sleeve t-shirt.

He sits at the kitchen table and waits.

*

Darry walks through the front door looking incredibly pissed and Ponyboy hopes the truck wasn't lifted during the night. "Did you find the truck?"

"Oh yeah, we found the truck."

"Where's Sodapop?"

"Garage."

Ponyboy takes a big gulp. "Hey Darry, I have to tell—"

"What's this?" Darry holds up a white envelope that's been opened. He crosses the room to stand in front of the kitchen table. As soon as Ponyboy sees the return address marked Oklahoma State University his heart sinks. Any strength he had been building up vanishes.

"Those are my grades aren't they?" Ponyboy thought he had changed the mailing address to Sarah's apartment but apparently it didn't take effect yet. He's lost his chance to explain his own way.

"They sure are." Darry's face is red. "And what I'd really like to know is why you failed every single one."

Seeing Ponyboy speechless riles Darry even more. He stares down at the letter. "You do know that you're going to have to repeat the semester, don't you? I don't even know if your scholarship will—"

"I'm not repeating the semester, Dar." Darry's head snaps up. "I dropped out."

"What?"

"I dropped out. I ain't going back."

This time he yells. "What? Ponyboy Curtis, are you out of your mind?"

Ponyboy stands, going to the fridge to search for a Pepsi, any distraction he can find to avoid Darry's icy gaze. "No. I know what I'm doing," he mutters. "I have a good reason."

"Apparently not." Darry slaps the envelope on the table. "When school reopens, I'm taking you back up there and re-enrolling you."

The thought of going back to that campus, that_ place_, scares Pony out of his wits. Even taking a breath seems hard. He licks his dry lips, shutting the fridge. "No, Darry. No…"

Darry's impossible. He's so caught up in Pony's concealing the truth, of dropping out that he can't think of anything else besides righting it. "No? Sorry kid, you're out of luck. You don't have a choice. I'm not gonna let you throw it all away. We're going back—"

Panicked, Ponyboy covers his ears with his hands and then rips them away. "No, no! Stop it! You never listen. You never listen to me!"

"Listen to you? Pony, you've been lying to us the entire time you've been home! Were you ever going say anything? Jesus, Ponyboy, I thought I knew you better than this…"

Desperate, Ponyboy says, "No, no, that's not it. I didn't know how to tell—I didn't think you'd understand."

"You're right, I don't. What's your excuse this time, Ponyboy? Is it like track? You just don't like it anymore so you give up?" The color from Pony's face drains. "Well, let me tell you something, sometimes you have to do things you don't like. Life's hard."

Ponyboy slumps back against the kitchen counter turning his head to wipe his eyes. "Yeah. You've been telling me that since I was 14."

There's a long beat as Darry stares hard at Ponyboy. Darry's stomach twists, he wants to reach out to his brother, who stands shaking in the middle of the kitchen, but Darry's anger and disappointment won't let him. He checks his watch. "I gotta go to work."

Ponyboy's thinking: _Tell him. Don't let him leave without telling him the rest_. But Pony's tired and he's defeated. The main truth is already out so why bother with the painful rest of the story.

Ponyboy just nods. "Ok."

*

Pardon typos.

Please read and review. More to come.


	8. Chapter 8

SE Hinton owns the Outsiders.

Fast update! Thanks and please review!

_*_

_Ponyboy has his first panic attack two days before finals. He's engrossed in his thoughts: classes, finals, his health, his goddamn stupidity for whatever he shouldn't have done that night, his sliced arms…when it all catches up with him._

_At first he thinks he's having a heart attack. His hands, his insides shake, and Ponyboy waits out the most miserable 15-seconds of his life with clenched eyes._

*

Later that night, Soda finds Ponyboy in the bedroom, flipping aimlessly through a book. Soda sits on the edge of the bed, a long streak of grease on his cheek. "You could have told me, you know."

Pony nods, closing the book.

Soda pats Pony's knee. "Darry's just—he's just upset right now. Give him a few days, he'll settle down."

Pony meets Soda's eyes. "And you?" he asks, voice tight. "What're you?"

Soda's eyes flick downward. "Well, Pone…I guess I'm…I'm disappointed. You're too smart to just drop out, kiddo. You ain't me. You'd never be happy bumming around here, fixing cars."

Soda leans across to give Pony a hug, unaware just how much his words have stung. "It'll be okay," Soda says. "We'll figure something out."

*

It's early afternoon. Steve finds Pony sitting at the kitchen table, staring at nothing. He raises a dark brow. "Darry scare the piss out of you yesterday?"

"Screw you, Steve."

"Kid, you screwed yourself, keeping your lips zipped for so long." Steve sits down next to the boy. "You ain't sick or anything are you?"

Pony draws back. "Sick?"

Steve taps his index finger on the table. "Look. Soda told me what happened with you and Darry. But he didn't mention anything about your arms being sliced up, so I'm figuring you ain't said nothing about that."

Standing up, Steve lingers a moment, hoping the kid says something; deny, yell, pull a punch, anything to throw some life back into him. But he doesn't.

Pony watches Steve leave and then he goes for the phone.

*

"I told Darry. Well, kind of."

"Good boy," Sarah says. "That's something. How'd it go?"

"He didn't listen. Did you hear me Sarah? He didn't listen. I tried to explain…but…"

"Calm down, baby. Did you _make_ him listen?" Sarah holds the receiver tight, scrutinizing the detached voice. Glancing over her shoulder, she searches for Sam.

"You don't know Darry."

"Well, he sounds like a stubborn ass. Maybe I should come down there and—"

Sarah's words blur. Pony tugs the receiver away from his ear, resting his forehead against the earpiece. He takes a slow breath. His brain feels like a chicken bone that's been picked over and tossed in the trash.

*

At the same time that Ponyboy is on the phone with Sarah, Sodapop meets Darry for lunch. Darry's at the counter, drinking black coffee and staring at a burger and fries. Soda plops down next to him.

"We gotta talk about Ponyboy."

Resting his elbow on the countertop, Darry smashes his palm against his cheek. "Soda, I don't know if you want to get me started. For such a smart kid he can be so—"

Soda reaches over to steal a fry from Darry's plate. He points it at his brother. "Can you give him a break? He already feels lousy enough with you givin him the silent treatment."

"He's going back to school, Soda. I'll drag him there myself."

"Look…Darry…"

"Soda, don't try and make excuses for him."

"I'm not. I want him to go back just as much as you do. But I've been thinkin…Pony's smart. He wouldn't have dropped for nothin. Look at the grief he gave me when I did."

Soda shifts his weight to lean in closer. "Dar, I really think something else is wrong."

Anger and guilt war with each other. Darry knows it's true just as much as Soda does. He stares at Soda for a moment and then curses. "Shit."

*

The next day, Two-Bit takes Ponyboy to a movie. When it's over they walk outside. "Holy shit, Batman" Two-Bit breathes. Snow coats the street, traffic lights on the fritz, the sky dark and fuzzy. He wonders if they should chance driving or hoof it.

"Well kid, where to now? Bowling? A strip club?" Two-Bit rubs his hands together. "Or perhaps the two of them combined?"

Ponyboy rubs his tired eyes. "Two-Bit, go on home. It's New Year's Eve. I'm sure you want to spend it with Kathy."

"Are you sure?" Two-Bit feels rotten sending the kid home to an empty house; Darry's avoiding him and even Sodapop hasn't had much to say. Two-Bit can't believe it either that Ponyboy Curtis is a college dropout but he won't give the kid grief about it.

"Yeah," Pony says. "But I may be sleeping over at your place soon if Darry kicks me out."

"Shit kid, there's no way in hell Darry'd ever kick you out. He's pissed now but he'll get over it."

"Yeah? Well, people keep telling me that but I ain't so sure I believe them." As he speaks, the streetlights above flicker and go out.

*

The house is dark except for a few burning candles. There's a knock and Alice answers the door. Darry holds up a flashlight and a paper bag. "I brought you some things." The blizzard's knocked power out around some of the city.

Alice smiles. "How's the weather out there?"

Darry steps inside the apartment, brushing snow from his coat. "Thought I'd never make it over here. Accidents all over the place." He looks around Alice's living room, surveying the candles, the blankets draped over a chair. "You warm enough?"

"I'm fine, Darry. My dad's coming over…they still have electricity over at their house."

"Good," Darry says, nodding.

"How about you?"

"What?"

"What about your house?"

"I don't know. I haven't been home yet. I came straight here from work…" Darry frowns, remembering Ponyboy and Two-Bit had left the house earlier in the morning. Soda had gone someplace with Steve. He checks his watch.

"Darry? What's wrong?"

"I don't know where my brothers are."

"I'm sure they're at home." Alice gives him a sympathetic smile. "But you should go see."

Darry's already zipping up his jacket. "You'll be okay?"

"Glory, yes, Darry," Alice says with a laugh. "Go. Go find them."

*

"_Oh, you got the blues, baby," Sarah tells him. She looks up from her thesis. "Talk to daddy. He'll fix you." She bites the end of her eraser. "Or better yet, tell them brothers of yours."_

_Instead, Ponyboy skips all his finals. And without thinking of a better solution, he drops out. He can't do it._

*

Two-Bit drops him off at home, waving goodbye as he peels out, snow and mush flopping out of his tires. Their street is dark except for a lone light coming from the garage. Pony heads toward it, slipping once in the flurry of snow but catching himself.

"Soda?" he calls, wanting to make sure his brother is at home. The garage is lit up with gas lanterns; a few hang from the beams above, some set on workbenches and tables. Soda comes out from behind a busted Chevy, swathed in a heavy coat and work gloves.

"Hey, Pony. Make it home okay?"

"Yeah, Two-Bit just dropped me off."

"Darry home?"

Pony shakes his head. Soda sets a wrench on the hood of the car. "C'mere, I want to talk to you."

Ponyboy stays where he is. "What about?"

"Kiddo, I've been thinking about what you told me and Darry about college and it don't fit."

"Why? What'd Steve tell you?"

"Steve? What's he got to do with this?"

"Nothing."

"Pone, you can talk to me. You can tell me anything. You could be from another planet and I wouldn't care." When Pony's silent, Soda gives him a look. "Come off it Ponyboy. I ain't stupid. Now what the hell's going on with you?"

"I just…I just can't go back to school, Sodapop. I miss too much when I'm away."

Soda raises a brow. "What're you talkin about? Tulsa ain't changin."

"It's not that. It's just—I don't—I'm not even included anymore. You and Darry talk about stuff and I'm always the last to know." As Ponyboy searches for a story to spin, truth still manages to find existence in his excuse.

Ponyboy backs up, knocking into a stack of tires. Despite his thin jacket, he's hot. Burning. Pony's chest hurts; anxiety overwhelming in its power. "Everyone else is the same. Everyone else is fine. But I had to go away…because you guys thought I'd be better off. And you're all here and I'm not."

"Kiddo, I'm so sorry if we made you think that. But you gotta believe me, none of that's true." Soda's voice is gentle. He takes a step towards his shaking brother. "Pony…"

Pony shakes his head, ripping his eyes away from Sodapop. "I think Darry's home," he mumbles, turning to leave.

"Hey Pony, hold up…" Soda sighs, going after him. He reaches out, catching Pony's sleeve to pull him back. The sleeve rides up, revealing the beginning of the white scar. Soda frowns.

Wide-eyed, Pony tries to worm away. "Sodapop…"

Gripping tighter, Soda jerks Pony towards him, shoving the sleeve up to Pony's elbow. "What—Ponyboy, what the hell is this? I mean, what the hell!"

"Nothing, Soda, it's nothing!"

"Let me see the other one. Pony!" Soda shouts when Pony's resistant.

Pony sticks his right arm out, showing Soda the damage. Soda gawks, dropping Pony's wrist. Pony lets his arms hang limply at his side. "It's not what you think. Don't get upset Soda," Pony whispers.

"Don't get upset? Ponyboy! What is this? Jesus Christ, honey," Soda's voice breaks. "What happened to you?"

*

The sky's black when Darry swerves into the driveway. As soon as he exits the truck he hears the yelling. Frightened, hurt; the kind that causes a knot to ball his stomach. Slamming the door shut, he bolts for the garage. In the dim light, it takes Darry a moment to find them. And when he sees them he doesn't know what to think. They're standing in a corner, both looking miserable. Soda's voice sounds like a kind of chant, a desperate sort of prayer.

"What happened? Please, kiddo…just tell me…just tell me what happened…"

Suddenly, Ponyboy's face crumples and he begins to cry. Soda wraps his arms around their brother, Pony's body jerking against Soda's chest.

Darry approaches, touching the back of Pony's bowed head. Soda looks like he wants to drop to the floor any second. Darry locks eyes with him. "Soda?"

"His arms, Dar."

Darry uncurls Ponyboy's bony body from Soda's hold. "Let me see, Ponyboy."

Ponyboy shows.

Darry clears his choked throat. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm real sorry I didn't listen before, kiddo."

With those words, it's as if a piece of duct tape has been ripped from Pony's mouth. Ponyboy begins to speak and sob at the same time, rambling words, suffocating on memories. He tells them about the party, the drink and everything after that. Sometimes he stops to catch his breath, other times he just looks lost and disoriented. Darry stays calm, composed, while Soda keeps making painful noises and shaking his head at the parts that scare Darry just as much as Soda.

Pony finally finishes; his eyes are shiny, his face delirious, unsteady from the weeks of uncertainty that have followed him.

*

Not finished. I think two more to go.

As always, thanks for reading…pardon typos, and please review.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders. SE Hinton does.

Cursing below.

Sorry for the wait. Please review if you would.

*

Ponyboy's sprawled out on the couch, heavy with exhaustion. The house has a mellow glow thanks to the lanterns brought in from the garage. Darry touches the top of Pony's head before moving down the hall to grab another blanket. He opens the closet and just freezes; shutting his eyes, getting a rare moment for himself.

Darry wants to kill whoever's idea of a good time it was dropping a shitload of drugs into his brother's drink. He coughs into his fist, giving it another task besides slamming it into the wall.

Darry knows that he and Soda are lucky Pony's alive right now. Darry also knows that if he would have gone easier on the kid earlier, then maybe, just maybe, Ponyboy would have opened up to them.

Darry knows a lot of things that won't be easy to forget anytime soon.

When he comes back, Soda's plopped next to Pony, running a thumb down his scar and Darry wishes he wouldn't do that. Pony's pulled himself into a protective slouch.

"Does it hurt?" Soda asks.

"Not anymore." Pony removes his arm from Soda's palm, tucking it against his side. He sighs. "I'm real sorry I didn't tell you guys."

"You don't have to be sorry, kiddo. We know now, that's all that matters," Darry says, handing Soda the blanket to cover himself and Ponyboy.

Darry squats next to his brother. "Look, Ponyboy…I know bad things happened to you but you're here with us so don't worry anymore."

Ponyboy looks down, hands smoothing out the patchwork quilt their mother had made. "I just feel so shitty all the time," he explains. "My head's all fuzzy, like a blurry photograph or something."

If Darry's shocked by Pony's honesty, he hides it well, simply patting Ponyboy's leg. "Kiddo, ain't nothin gonna touch you."

"But it…it ain't getting better, Dar. Sometimes I think I'm royally screwed."

"It will."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"It will," Soda insists. "We'll help you." Ponyboy just nods.

*

Thanks to a dark rivaling midnight, Ponyboy falls asleep around seven in the evening. Darry scoops the kid up and puts him in his room. He covers him with four blankets, smoothes his hair back and shuts the bedroom door.

Darry finds Soda in the bathroom, washing his face. Soda straightens up, shutting off the water.

"You okay?" Darry hands him a towel to dry off.

Soda's lips smash into a straight white line. "Darry, when I saw his arms…I thought he had tried to—on purpose—"

Soda hangs his head. "And I feel like such an asshole for even thinking he'd do that."

*

For better or worse, Pony rises to face the day or the New Year (if he wants to think of it like that). He sticks his fingers through the window blinds. The electricity is back on, but the streets and the skies are still riddled with snow. Tulsa looks like a city stuck in a snow globe.

Pony pulls up his sleeves, staring at the lines Soda and Darry have glimpsed.

He's torn between fearful relief. Darry and Soda know what he knows. He doesn't have to hide or lie; he can talk to his brothers. But there's another aspect of him that still feels so lost, hanging around in limbo. Because now that it's out, what does he do next?

Roughly, he jerks the sleeves back down.

*

While Pony wrestles his demons, Soda has a bone to pick.

"He told you."

"Huh?"

"You knew about Pony."

Steve pulls the goggles off his face. He snorts. "Good. That dumb little shit finally 'fessed up." Tossing the goggles across the garage, they land on a workbench and then tumble to the floor.

"Steve." Soda moves to stand in front of his best friend. "You _fucking_ knew and you didn't say anything?"

"Whoa. Don't go blamin me for whatever he was hidin. I ain't his babysitter."

"No, but he's _my_ goddamn brother. He's not yours. The next time you pull this shit I'm gonna ring your fuckin neck."

"Jesus Christ, shit, Sodapop. I just thought he should handle it on his own and stop pussyfooting around. You know that kid is—" Steve's about to say _dense_ when the defeated look on Soda's face makes Steve cut the shit.

"Soda," Steve lowers his voice. "What the hell's going on, man?"

Soda shakes his head, an explanation just won't come. He doesn't know how to fix his brother and he can tell Darry doesn't know either. Soda sags back against one of the, finally finding an apt adjective to describe their situation.

"Everything's a mess," Soda says, smearing his face in his hands. "Everything's fucked."

*

He keeps the story short. Darry tells it in one long breath, barely pausing. He feels guilty enough as it is; he should have been involved in the first place, at the first sign; instead of taking Ponyboy's silence as something he'd get over.

Alice covers her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Darry," she says. "I'm so sorry."

"I was stupid, Al. I shouldn't have hollered at him about school. I told him he gave up." Darry groans, remembering the argument.

"You couldn't have known the reason. He'll be okay. Just keep talking to him." Darry nods without saying anything and Alice asks, "What is it?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Say whatever you want. Or just listen – without yelling." Alice gives a wry grin, patting his hand. "Whatever it is, Darry, if it comes from you, he'll appreciate it."

*

Soda's thinking.

Thinking about his brother's claim that his mind don't work, that it's not right. It's horseshit; Ponyboy can't lose what makes him _him_. Soda won't let him.

Caught up in his thoughts, Soda keeps opening and closing his cigarette pack as if it has the solutions to his problems.

Open, close. Open, close.

It's been a week and things have gone back to as normal as they can get in these circumstances. Two-Bit and Steve know, trying to act unconcerned but Two-Bit's babbling bullshit and Steve's contrite attitude give them away.

Soda can't help it, he finds himself watching Ponyboy closely. Darry is too, albeit in a more conspicuous manner. Plainly put, Darry hovers, which Sodapop thinks is odd because Darry never advertises it. He'd rather deck you than admit he can't handle a problem, most of all his brothers.

Ponyboy notices too.

"I swear to god Soda," Ponyboy had told him just this morning, "if Darry asks me if I'm okay one more time, I'm walking out of this house."

Needless to say, Soda had told Darry to cool it on the questioning. "You're overcompensating, man," Soda said. Darry had grumbled something about having the right to overcompensate all he wanted and left for work, slamming the door shut hard behind him.

While Soda's concentrating on his packet of cigarettes, Darry saunters in a few minutes later, closing the front door against the cold and dropping his tool belt on the floor. He flops into his recliner, heavy coat and all.

"How was work?"

"Long. Some idiot was screwing around and broke his leg. Bunch of paperwork to fill out." Noticing the TV's off and the abnormal quiet of the house, Darry raises an eyebrow. "What're you doing, Sodapop?"

Soda sits up from his place on the couch. "Dar," he begins, finally taking out a cigarette, tapping the white stick against his palm. "Do you think we oughta take Pony to a doctor? Get him checked out or something like that?"

Darry sighs and Soda holds up a hand. "I ain't saying nothing's wrong but maybe just in case—"

"Soda," Darry interrupts. "I was planning to call someone next week." Other than the story of what happened, they don't know many details and when prodded Ponyboy just clams us. He'll talk to them but it's clear to see it's painful.

"I have a doctor," Ponyboy interrupts.

They both turn. He's standing in the doorway, hair sticking up in all directions, barefoot and in his usual clothes. He moves as if to join them but suddenly as if deciding that it's not worth moving anymore, Ponyboy sits down in the hallway, leaning his back against the stiff wall.

"I really want a smoke," Ponyboy mutters to no one in particular, thinking it odd since he hasn't had a craving in quite some time.

Darry's eyes move to Soda. "Who's your doctor?"

"Sam. The doctor who treated me. After the—the—" Ponyboy stutters and then finally decides on a term, "The accident, he made me come see him and…talk and stuff."

"About what?"

"Oh all kinds of fun stuff," Pony snorts. "You know, the usual, panic attacks, failing school, why the earth is round…"

Soda sets the cigarette down. "Damn it Ponyboy, stop being an ass."

Pony blinks. And then laughs; a real laugh creeping out of his mouth. He holds his stomach."Ok, Soda. I'm sorry. Ok."

*

Ponyboy doesn't tell Darry or Soda much more about what Sam had to say, instead keeping his summation to a measly, "We talked is all."

Darry – if he wants to be honest – is scared to death. Scared because _he_ doesn't know how to help; he doesn't know exactly what Ponyboy experienced the past month without them. Pony's skewed version isn't reliable. Darry can hear the blame and doubt soaking through his shielded words.

Darry, finding a desperate need for secondhand information, sneaks around. And Darry hasn't done sneaking around since Sally Paulson in ninth grade. He knows he'll get bawled out by Ponyboy but he'll risk it. He has to do what's best for his brother.

So Darry calls the school, tracking down the man who knows what Ponyboy went through for the last month. Samuel Morrow is quiet on the phone, his voice deep and thick. He asks few questions, murmuring at Darry's comments, listening to Darry's composed concern with an attentive ear.

When Sam finally speaks, he's professional. A physician at one of the off-campus medical facilities, he's walking a fine line. "I can't tell you anything you don't need to know. I won't betray Ponyboy's trust. But we can talk in person if you like," Sam says. "I can come down tomorrow."

Darry wavers, thinking about Ponyboy, who's currently unaware of this phone call and probably won't be too thrilled with his older brother's due diligence.

Sam, noticing Darry's hesitance, asks, "Ponyboy doesn't know you called me does he?"

"No, he doesn't."

"Well, Darrel, sometimes, good or bad, you do what you have to."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

*

If they're surprised at the tall black man sitting at their kitchen table, they don't show it. In fact, Soda's more surprised that Darry had called Sam Morrow for advice. An hour ago, after they had shook Sam's hand and made introductions, Soda had pulled Darry aside.

"Boy howdy, Ponyboy's gonna be pissed at you," Soda whispered.

Darry had almost looked guilty. "I told Two-Bit to distract him for a while."

Now, sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by coffee mugs and questions Darry glances at the refrigerator. Soda's taken down the calendar that had hung on the fridge, hiding away the date with the big red circle marking Ponyboy's return to school.

Sam picks up where he's left off. "Sometimes with ecstasy, because it's a mind-altering drug, a hallucinogenic, the after-effects can linger for quite some time. And in the case of an overdose, the after-effects stay even longer; depression, confusion. It affects the brain significantly."

Impatient, Darry taps the table. "Well, where does that leave Ponyboy?"

"He should come out of it or he could remain fuzzy for a while. And that, combined with his traumatic experience, has left him depressed."

Sam takes a sip of coffee and then sets the cup on the table. "I did think of something that would help."

Soda perks up. "Name it."

"I think it would work wonders if someone went and got everything from his dorm and brought it home. To Ponyboy it would symbolize that that part is over in his life. That no one will make him go back there."

Sam's reproachful eyes fall on Darry and Darry wonders just what Ponyboy's told Sam about him.

Darry pushes his coffee mug away. "We can do that." His voice is thin.

"Good," Sam says. "I must admit, I was a bit surprised it took him as long as it did to tell the both of you; considering how anxious he was to get back home. But he did it. I'm proud of him, it couldn't have been easy."

Soda steals a quick glance at Darry who seems to have paled a few shades. Darry's hands are balled into tight fists, resting on the table next to his coffee. Soda gets what's bugging Darry; a stranger knows more about solving their brother's problems than they do right now.

Sam checks his watch. "I better get going before the snow gets worse."

They stand, walking Sam to the door and shaking hands once again. "We appreciate you helping us out," Darry says. "Really appreciate it."

"Go slow with him," Sam says. "He's young, you know how that is."

"Yeah, I do," Darry chuckles.

Soda laughs, punching Darry's arm. "Shoot, I don't think this one was ever young."

*

Soda and Darry are still chuckling on the front porch, when they see Ponyboy and Two-Bit headed their way. Two-Bit cuts across the neighbor's lawn, scooping up a snowball and smashing it at Ponyboy's head. Ponyboy laughs and flips him the bird.

"Shit," Darry swears, eyeing Sam's departing car. It turns the corner, disappearing out of sight, but not before Ponyboy catches a glimpse of it. He pauses in the middle of the street, eyes narrowing, and then runs up to Darry and Soda.

Pony's hair is matted with snow. He brushes it out of his face furiously. "Who was that?"

"Who're you talking about, Pone?" As Ponyboy scowls at Darry, Two-Bit shoots Darry an apologetic glance and points at a non-existent watch on his wrist, telling Darry they're early.

"You know who…that car – was Sam here?"

Soda leans against the porch railing. "Yeah kiddo, he came down."

"Well, why'd you call him?"

"Easy there, cowboy," Two-Bit says, propping both of his hands on Ponyboy's shoulders. "Don't get your chaps in a bunch." Ponyboy shakes him off.

"Ponyboy," Darry begins, "we just thought it would be a good idea to visit with Sam on our own."

"You could have told me if you wanted to talk to him," Ponyboy states flatly. "You didn't have to go sneakin around my back, dissecting my brain."

"Pony, we weren't—" Soda cuts off at Pony's hurt look and amends, "I'm sorry, kiddo. But we needed to talk to him."

"Sure," Pony sighs, staring at the ground. "I get it. But I don't have to like it."

Darry gets the point. "No. No you don't."

*

Pardon typos. Hopefully a long wrap-up next chapter.

Thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: SE Hinton owns The Outsiders.

Cursing involved.

-

So I'm a liar, liar pants on fire. Not the last chapter…just couldn't wrap it up yet. Sorry for the long wait…got the groove back so hope to update again soon.

Thanks (as always) for reading!! Reviews are always loved.

*

Two-Bit freezes, fork poised in front of his open mouth. Darry's standing in the doorway watching him. Wondering if he's about to be yelled at for eating the last slice of Soda's cake, Two-Bit sets the fork down.

"How's it hanging, Darry?"

"Two-Bit," Darry begins, sitting down at the table. "I was wonderin if you'd do me a favor."

"Sure, Dar. Whatcha need?"

"When school starts could you go up to campus and get the rest of Pony's stuff from his dorm?" Darry doesn't know if it will help but he wants to make sure Pony understands that he doesn't have to go back. What Sam Morrow said makes sense, he just hope Ponyboy gets it.

Darry sighs, scratching the nape of his neck. "I'd go myself but…"

Two-Bit understands; Darry doesn't want to leave the kid alone. Both Darry and Ponyboy seem to be a bit dependent on each other these days. He feels for the Curtis's, unable to imagine what Darry and Soda are going through by trying to handle it all. Two-Bit's a blathering idiot around Ponyboy, trying not to say the wrong thing and he's not even the kid's brother.

"Say no more ye old wise one," Two-Bit says, glad to be able to help any way he can. "I'll take Steve. We'll make a road trip out of it; see all kinds of roadside freak show attractions."

Darry smiles gratefully. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Anything for the kid."

*

It's an awkward kind of day. The day classes begin at Oklahoma State. The day Ponyboy should be back at college. The calendar is long gone from the fridge, no red marks left behind to remind the kid where he should be.

Darry's shift has been cut short because of the weather and he gets home early in the afternoon; Soda's in the garage, Ponyboy nowhere to be found.

He's on the phone when Ponyboy traipses inside, an hour later. Ponyboy kicks off his shoes, sending snow flying across the room. Pools of water begin forming on the floor.

"What's wrong?" Ponyboy asks when Darry hangs up, looking stunned.

"That was Tim," Darry says still staring at the phone. "Did you know Curly got drafted?"

Pony swallows and pulls off his gloves, making fists with his hands to warm them. "Yeah, he already told me about it."

Darry glances at his brother, as if really seeing him for the first time. Ponyboy's nose and ears are red from the cold and as always he's not wearing a hat. "Where've you been?"

"Just out. Nowhere really." Ponyboy notices Darry's face and takes a step towards him. "You okay, Dar?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just—" Pausing, he looks at Ponyboy. "You and Soda want to go get a beer?" Darry feels the need to be around his brothers. That no matter how wrecked things look, they're still here.

Taken aback by Darry's bizarre offer, Ponyboy hesitates. "Um, uh, yeah, sure. I'll go get him." Turning, Ponyboy steps outside the screen door before Darry can tell him to put his shoes back on.

*

"I don't see why we have to be Darry's errand boys," Steve grumbles for about the third time since starting out on the drive. Steve checks his blind spot and merges into the right lane. The green sign whizzes by; Oklahoma City – 40 miles to go.

Two-Bit, trying to fold up the road map and having no luck, gives up and tosses it on the ground. "C'mon, Stevie," Two-Bit says. "When's the last time we got to spend some quality time together?"

"Quality time we got," Steve growls, turning the radio on. _The Temptations_ fill the air and after a momentary listen, Steve flips the dial, finally settling on something more moody by _The Doors_. Steve honks as a Chevy cuts him off.

"What's up your ass?" Two-Bit asks, staring at Steve who's been in a downright shitty mood ever since they left at eight that morning.

"I don't know. I mean, it ain't like the kid's helpless." Steve's frustrated, feeling simultaneously in the wrong and in the right about the information he withheld. He doesn't like that Ponyboy worried him, disrupted his Steve-centric universe. He let Soda down and this bugs him more than anything.

"It probably would have been good for him to go back. We all know he's going to anyways. This little mood or whatever he's in isn't helping anyone."

"Steve, stop being a dick." Two-Bit snaps. "You don't care fine. But just stop bitching and drive the goddamn truck."

The hardness in Two-Bit's voice causes Steve to glance over at his friend. There's a long awkward silence. Finally, Steve gives in and mutters, "I'm here ain't I? I care."

Two-Bit rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you come across like freakin Mother Teresa."

*

School is in its first week. Students milling around the quad, swathed in heavy winter jackets and hats. Two-Bit bemoans the lack of female flesh but is happy to note there are many blondes.

They find Ponyboy's dorm; a tall brick building situated on the edge of campus. They shove through the front door, ignoring the RA asking them for a pass.

"You have a kid who goes here?" the freckle-faced RA stutters.

Steve's about to ask the dipshit if they look old enough to have a college kid but instead settles on muttering, "Not anymore," and pushing the RA out of their way.

They board the elevator and get off at the tenth floor. A group of kids are hanging out in the lounge playing guitars and smoking. "Working hard are we?" Two-Bit asks them as they saunter down the hallway, finally finding room 1020.

Steve hammers on the door with his fist. After a few minutes a tired-looking boy answers, rubbing his bleary eyes.

"Yeah?" The boy props his hands on his hips, annoyed at the two who've interrupted his sleep. "What do you want?"

Steve and Two-Bit don't wait for an invite, stepping inside the room before the boy can protest. Two-Bit's eyes sweep the room like a hawk and then he reaches out, roughly shoving the kid up against the wall.

"Listen up kid. Let me give you some advice—what's your name?"

"Ma-Ma-Matt..."

"Matt." Two-Bit swipes a brown leather object from Matt's desk. "The next time you take someone's wallet, especially your ex-roommate's, you better make damn sure you keep it well hidden."

Two-Bit slaps Matt's face once and holds the wallet up to Steve. "I stole this for Pony, you know."

"No shit."

Steve eyes the right side of the room – empty except for a small bed, a desk and chair; no trace of Ponyboy to be found. He turns to Matt. "Where's his stuff, idiot?"

Matt winces from Steve's glare. "Someone already came and got it yesterday."

"Who?"

"Some black girl," Matt says. "Boxed up everything and took it to her place."

*

Ponyboy finds Curly back at the same bar. Curly nods at him. "Come to wish me luck, Curtis?"

"You won't need luck," Pony says with a grin. "Sense maybe but not luck."

Earlier that day, Tim had stopped by informing Ponyboy that Curly was leaving tomorrow. In a move very un-Tim-like, Tim had then asked Ponyboy to go talk to his brother. Ponyboy gets why Tim went to him. He needed help from someone else, just like Darry did from Sam.

Tim claimed Curly was scared but Ponyboy would bet twenty bucks it was the other way around. Because Curly's too stupid to be scared; he's got nothing to lose.

Curly eyes Ponyboy and scoffs. "Shit. I bet you're thinking I'm such a fuck up that my only good use is getting drafted."

"Man, I dropped out of college," Ponyboy says, sitting next to him on a bar stool. "Right now my days consist of minor freak outs and wondering what my next move is."

Curly gawks at him.

"You never do what you think you should." Ponyboy drums his fingers on the counters, a bit shocked at what he's just told Curly. Relating to someone feels amazing. He never thought the two of them would be on the same page in life.

Terrifyingly lost.

*

Two-Bit calls Darry who calls Samuel and gets Sarah's address.

*

She's surprised at her unannounced visitors but Sarah lets them in. She's seen photos of Ponyboy's friends and knows right away they aren't Darry and Soda. But by the way these two act they may as well be his brothers.

She can tell the dark-haired boy, Steve, doesn't like her much. He keeps appraising her, interjecting sarcastic comments whenever necessary.

When two sides of one life merge, it's never easy.

"You shoulda left his stuff there," Steve comments as Sarah opens her guest bedroom showing them boxes of Ponyboy's belongings. Five cardboard boxes line the floor as well as a stack of textbooks. "I didn't know this was going to turn into a damn Scavenger Hunt."

"I've never liked those," Two-Bit jokes. "Too much exercise involved."

Bristling, Sarah braces a hand against the wall, staring at the two boys Ponyboy has told her so much about. "You must be the funny one," she tells Two-Bit.

Two-Bit bows. "At your service m'lady."

"What'd he tell you about me?" Steve grunts.

Sarah raises an eyebrow. "That you're a jerk." Two-Bit barks out a laugh as Steve looks mildly offended.

"I was going to bring these down next week but now it looks like I don't have to. Although I really wish my dad would have told me he spoke with Pony's brothers. Can't imagine how it went with Darry."

Sarah can't help the disgust in her voice. An innate sense of dislike for the oldest Curtis brother has been bred in her. Ponyboy's hesitation and fright in telling his brother the truth has rubbed Sarah the wrong way from the beginning. She knows it's unfair but she's on Ponyboy's side, not Darry's.

The tension in the room is palpable. Steve already knows he dislikes this girl for making Ponyboy her business, not to mention badmouthing Darry in front of them. She's got balls, he'll give her that.

"Aw, Darry's a good guy," Two-Bit says before Steve can snap at her.

"Tell me something," Steve asks, eyeing Sarah. "What were you doing there that night?"

Her dark eyes flash. Sarah draws herself up, crossing her arms. "You think I went there to get stoned, pop some pills?"

"No, but I'm wondering why a grad student was at a frat house?"

"I was doing research for my thesis on the drug habits of college freshmen. Just planning to watch and observe." She laughs bitterly. "Got a lot more than I bargained for."

Two-Bit's frowning at this new information. "Does Ponyboy know what you were there for?"

Sarah's superior façade falters and she takes a shaky breath. "No. He's never even asked me."

"Is he some sort of science experiment you sick bi—"

"Steve," Two-Bit warns in a low voice. "Calm the hell down."

Steve points at Sarah. "That why you've been taking care of him? To write an article?"

Looking like she's just been slapped, Sarah sits on the edge of the bed, hands resting on her knees. "Screw you." Her jaw is tight. "And no, I haven't done that. The asshole just dropped the pills in and was gone before I could do anything."

Steve starts at this. He squats beside the bed. "Sarah…you saw this guy?"

"Yeah." She leans down toward Steve, suddenly smiling. "You want to know where he lives?"

*

Pardon typos.

Please review.

Special thanks to Calla for her input.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimers: SE Hinton owns The Outsiders. Cursing, mature subject matter below.

Another chapter up and running. Please read and review.

*

Sarah gives them an address and description without hesitation and helps them load Ponyboy's junk into the back of Steve's truck. Not many more words are spoken; Sarah stung and Steve distrustful. She's never had anyone call her out like that. The fierceness of Ponyboy's friends is a bit unsettling.

Still, Steve shakes her hand goodbye so she figures that's worth something.

Sarah watches them go, feeling guilty and victorious all at the same time. She hopes they do her (and Ponyboy) a favor and kick the asshole's teeth in.

*

After asking around at one of the frat houses, they find Ponyboy's pill-dropper at a bar on campus, sitting at a poker table, placing a two dollar bet. Right off the bat, Steve can tell he's bluffing. The eye twitch is the tell.

Claiming a table in a darkened corner, Steve and Two-Bit huddle. They're ready to bust some ass but know they have to play it smart. They're strangers in town, at a university. Breaking some college kid's bones won't get them on the cops' good side. Although the bar is decently deserted so they may not have to worry too much.

It's about two in the afternoon and judging by the way the guy wears his five o'clock shadow Steve would bet he's the kind who gets his kicks from stuffing powder up his nose and jerking off to _Playboy_ in his spare time.

Two-Bit looks at the paper Sarah's given them and then balls it up. "Dan Pinkleton." Two-Bit snorts. "Even his name sounds like an asshole."

Steve's eyes narrow, watching Dan Pinkleton scoop up the pot of cash. Steve cracks his knuckles. "I wish Soda were here."

"Shit." Two-Bit raises a brow. "I ain't so sure I want to spend the night in jail." Steve laughs at that but nods.

Knowing they need a plan, Steve leans in closer, "Let's wait until he leaves. That way we lay low. We'll get him in the alley—"

The poker table suddenly clears of players, except for Dan, and Two-Bit stands up. "Let's win some money." He pumps his fist.

"Two-Bit," Steve hisses, trying to grab his friend's shirt.

"Relax, Stevie. If we're gonna beat his ass, may as well take his money too."

After watching in annoyance as Two-Bit makes introductions and shakes hands with Dan, Steve smears his face in his palms and then goes to join them, hoping Two-Bit plays poker better than he listens to instructions.

*

"Oh hells bells," Two-Bit says, laying his cards down. He's got a flush beating Dan's two pair. "Looks like I win. Again."

Dan Pinkleton smiles uneasily. He's already lost about 20 bucks and that's bad for business. He doesn't like to lose.

Steve looks on, silently praising Two-Bit's stealthy poker hustling skills. Until a minute ago, Steve didn't even know he had the rules down pat. In fact, Steve's surprised Two-Bit hasn't tried to cheat him or Sodapop by now.

Two-Bit's card-free hands are now holding a beer and a smoke. He takes a long slurp and ashes his smoke in the ashtray. Dan sits staring at Two-Bit.

"You got a problem?" Steve asks.

Dan, an ugly ape-faced guy, scowls. "Just wondering how you're getting so lucky when about an hour ago you were so shitty."

Steve shrugs, stamping out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Not luck."

"Pure skill," Two-Bit drawls. "My little sister learned me on _Go Fish_ and _52 Card Pick-Up_…and from then on I was a champ."

"Oh bullshit," Dan snaps. Steve glances sharply at Dan, willing him to start something in the bar. "Know what I think? I think you two assholes need to work on your story. Because from what I see youse hustling from a mile away."

"Why don't you work on your bluffing skills and let us worry about taking your money." Steve leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. Two-Bit reaches over to scrape up the dollar bills.

The knife's a surprise but the guy's poor attitude isn't. He stabs the crumpled dollar bills, narrowly missing Two-Bit's hand. The knife sticks up and out of the table.

Two-Bit draws his hand back. "Surly bar you hang out at ain't it Danny boy?"

"Keep your money," Steve says. He glances at Two-Bit. "Well, I reckon he started it."

"I reckon so," Two-Bit replies. That electric energy he usually gets right before a rumble begins pumping through Two-Bit's veins.

Steve palms the ashtray, dumping the remnants of day-old cigarette butts and ash in Dan's beer. "Since you like dumping shit in beer, here you go. Drink up."

Dan's quick but Two-Bit's quicker, grabbing up the knife before Dan can get at it. "Now, now," Two-Bit says, waving blade like a fan. "Let's all play fair, kids."

Dan scowls at Steve. "What the hell are you two talking about?"

"What? Don't remember dropping some pills into a kid's drink? Nearly killing him?"

And Dan can't remember. Because truth is, he does it a lot. It's fun. He doesn't stick around to see the end result but the initial trip is a ball. Dan smiles at the memory. Steve reaches out and clocks the guy on the side of the head.

"You think it's fuckin funny?"

"Ow! Shit, man. It's just a joke. No harm, no foul, am I right?"

"Buddy boy, you've never been more wrong in your entire life," Two-Bit says, his voice flat. "Now drink that goddamned beer."

Dan's eyes move between Steve and Two-Bit, wondering whether they're serious. Steve's jaw tightens. "You have about ten seconds to drink that before I piss in it. And then you'll really be out of luck."

Deciding Steve's really serious, and that cigarette ash will taste a whole lot better than piss, Dan wraps a hand around the cold beer mug, swallowing thickly. He raises it to his lips and takes a long gulp, choking and coughing when he finally finishes. Dan wipes his mouth, looking miserable.

Steve scoots back. "Let's go," he tells Dan, roughly propelling him out of the chair. Steve's ready to do this; his muscles tight and his anger roaring.

"But—but I drank the beer."

Two-Bit stands as well, scooping up the cash. "That was just foreplay."

"Get the fuck outside," Steve says, walking Dan to the backdoor.

Two-Bit grabs a pool stick, ignoring the curious stares of the few bar patrons. "I'll bring this right back," he calls out to the bartender.

*

The truck hits the road, swiftly sailing down the white, snow-coated freeway. They're getting the hell out of dodge; Two-Bit's driving, both hands gripping the steering wheel. His knuckles are cut up, lower lip busted but he's smiling.

"Well, let no one say I didn't learn anything at college."

Steve rubs his throbbing cheek. "That spineless piece of shit got what he had coming to him."

"Hopefully, we showed him the light."

"Shit man," Steve laughs. "It's gonna be hard for Dan to see the light with two black eyes."

"You know, I do feel pretty bad though." Two-Bit slows on the gas as they round a corner. "I lied to that bartender about bringing back the pool stick."

*

They're about 30 miles from Tulsa when Steve's truck calls it quits. They pull into a deserted looking gas station in a small town. While Steve checks out the truck, Two-Bit darts inside to pay for gas and stock up on candy.

"Shit," Steve swears, popping the hood, wrinkling his nose at the smell of burning rubber. After inspecting the insides with a critical eye, Steve quickly finds the problem.

"What's the trouble, Stevie?" Two-Bit asks, bounding back, arms full of candy.

Steve sighs. "We got a busted alternator belt and we're in the middle of BFE." He jerks a thumb in the direction of the dilapidated 7-Eleven. "Sure as shit they can't help us. They probably don't even know which end is up."

"Let's call Superman," Two-Bit suggests, taking a bite of a Slim Jim.

Steve wipes his greasy hands on his jeans. "Yeah, let's call Superman."

*

"Darry ain't here," Ponyboy says. "Soda either." He frowns as Steve swears on the other end of the line. "Alice took Darry to her folks and Soda and Tim went to the track."

"Figures the moment we leave they go out and get a life," Steve mutters to Two-Bit. "Listen kid," he says, going back to Ponyboy. "We need you to come get us. My truck died and we ain't got a way to get back."

Steve doesn't want to involve Ponyboy any more than he can but he's not willing to sit around freezing his ass off. Darry's favor's long since run out when it comes to the weather.

"No problem," Pony says, scrawling down the directions. He hangs up and grabs Darry's keys.

*

Through the falling snow, Ponyboy squints at the two figures standing in the snow. Steve's wearing his perpetual scowl and Two-Bit's flipping through a comic book. Pony slows to a stop and hops out.

"What're you two doing out here?"

Two-Bit greets him with a wide grin. "You made good time, kiddo. You got a lead foot or something?"

"We're doing your brother a favor," Steve says, walking around to the back of his truck. "You want to help me out, Two-Bit? We can't leave all this shit here."

After sheepish glance at Ponyboy, Two-Bit joins Steve and they begin transferring boxes of Ponyboy's stuff to the bed of Darry's truck.

There's a moment of silence as Ponyboy recognizes his things. And then he goes to them, grabbing up one of his boxes and tossing it into the other truck. Something rattles inside, sounding like glass breaking. The sound is soothing so he does this two more times, relishing each shatter as Two-Bit winces.

When they're done, the last item tossed the pool stick, Steve holds out a hand. "I'm driving."

*

It's a tight squeeze in the small backseat. Ponyboy resists the urge to glance back at his belongings. He keeps thinking they're going to burn a hole in the bed of the truck. When he realized why Two-Bit and Steve were halfway between Tulsa and Oklahoma City, it had taken all of Ponyboy's self-control to push campus as far away from his mind as possible.

"So, uh," Pony keeps his voice light. "Where was my stuff?"

"Sarah was keeping it for you," Two-Bit says.

"Yeah, she's a real joy." Steve rolls his eyes. "Bigger pain in my ass than you, kid."

Pony snorts. "Right. I'm sure you turned on the ol' Steve Randle charm." The truck hits a patch of ice, swerving all over the road. Steve tightens his hands around the steering wheel.

"It's coming down pretty bad out there." Ponyboy's hand darts out to grip the dash. "Don't bust the truck, man. Darry'll kill me."

Two-Bit tosses his cigarette out the window. "You want to control your ride, Stevie?"

Steve grits his teeth, wanting everyone to shut the hell up, so he can get them and Darry's truck home in one piece. "You want me to pull over and you can walk back?"

The truck slips again and Steve can feel the kid leaning forward in the back seat to peer at the snow coming down. It's making Steve nervous. "Pony, you got your seatbelt on?" he asks, not wanting the kid to slam through the windshield if the truck finds itself in the ditch.

Pony ignores him. "How'd you bust your face up?" He has a vague idea but wants to hear it from them.

"Would you believe we ran into some old friends?" Two-Bit pulls out Pony's wallet and hands it to the kid. "And looky what we found."

"Oh, you didn't."

"We did."

Ponyboy frowns, his fuzzy brain pulling strings together. The choking sensation threatens to overwhelm but then, very carefully, he asks, "What was his name?" He doesn't know why a name will help him but for some reason he has to know.

Two-Bit flinches. "Pony…"

"Dan Pinkleton," Steve says. He watches Ponyboy in the rearview mirror.

"Did you get him?" Ponyboy asks, meeting Steve's eyes.

"Yeah, we got him. Beat the ever-loving shit out of him."

Ponyboy doesn't like to fight. But he will allow himself this. Because it's comforting. He doesn't know what to do and they did.

"Good. I'm glad."

"Aw," Two-Bit reaches back, trying to ruffle Ponyboy's hair. "We got the seal of approval."

"Sure thing, Pony," Steve says. "Now sit back and put your fucking seatbelt on."

*

Pardon typos. Please review.


	12. Chapter 12

SE Hinton owns.

Please review – thank you!

*

The truck takes out the mailbox as they swerve up onto the curb. A few letters explode into the snow. Ponyboy groans low, rubbing his brow in his palm as the front door opens and Soda and Darry step onto the porch. They look confused, Darry irritated. Steve twists around in the seat to eye the kid.

"You didn't happen to leave a note did you?" he asks. "Darry probably thinks someone lifted his precious truck."

"Shit," is all Ponyboy can say.

"Never fear," Two-Bit drawls, grabbing up the pool stick and throwing open his door. "I shall explain."

"Two-Bit, just leave it—" Pony snaps his mouth shut as Two-Bit jogs up to Darry. Two-Bit bows to Darry and then begins flailing the pool stick around like a sword, narrowly missing smacking Soda in the face.

"Don't bother. Let the idiot dig his own grave," Steve says. They watch Two-Bit a moment, then with a snort Steve crawls out of the truck, letting Ponyboy pass him.

The two of them walk around to the bed of the truck, each grabbing a box. Suddenly, Soda is there; his eyes hold a worried curiosity and Steve knows he's wondering why Pony is now with them.

Steve piles a box that's hastily labeled BOOKS into Soda's arms. "My piece of shit died back in Buxton. Busted alternator belt." Steve smirks at Pony. "We had to call the kid as a last resort."

Pony rolls his eyes, shifting his weight to get a better grip on the box. "Thanks, man."

"I'll order one tomorrow." Soda looks at Ponyboy, trying to gauge his reaction. He wants to ask how it was, if he's okay, but Pony's face has more life in it than it has in a long time so Soda just says the first thing that comes to mind: "I made blue potatoes for dinner."

It's lame, Soda knows, but Ponyboy just chuckles. "I'm goin in," he says, "it's freezing out here." He hurries up the porch holding the box like a life preserver. Soda stares at Steve as Ponyboy hustles inside, Darry following.

"So, what'd he say?"

"About what?"

"That you and Two-Bit went up to campus."

"Surprisingly nothing." Steve shrugs. "For once."

"He wasn't upset?"

"No. Now would you shut up? He's a big boy, Soda."

"Ok, ok, fine. But just one more question.

"What's that Sodapop?"

"What's with the pool stick?"

*

The next morning, Darry finds Ponyboy in the basement, stacking the boxes into a corner. "Hey, Pony."

Ponyboy jumps, spinning around. "Glory, you scared me, Dar."

Darry sits down on the step, rubbing his hands on his jeans. "I made breakfast if you want any."

"Maybe," Pony says. He turns back to the boxes, giving them another shove, as if he's trying to make them disappear.

Darry watches Pony closely. He's heard from Soda about Steve and Two-Bit's little run-in with Dan Pinkerton. And while Darry wishes he had been there, he also knows it's a good thing he wasn't. They told him Pony was okay with it and even though Darry has to admit his brother does seem calmer after returning he can still tell from the hunch of Pony's shoulders that the kid's still carrying around something.

"You know," Darry begins, "I ain't gonna make you go back to school if you don't want to."

"I can't think about that right now, Dar." Pony mumbles. "But if I go back, I'm staying in Tulsa." His voice shakes but his words are firm.

Darry frowns, wishing Ponyboy would give him some credit for once. "Soda said you didn't want to go away in the first place. You should have told me."

"Would you have listened?"

A long pause and then, "Probably not."

"Yeah, well, it's ok, Darry." Pony shuffles his feet, eyeing the boxes distrustfully. Darry follows his gaze.

"Don't you want to unpack them?"

"No." Pony says. "Not yet.

*

He gets a letter from Curly. Pony's so surprised he doesn't open it at first, instead cramming it into his pocket before Soda can ask what it is. He goes for a walk and forgetting his surroundings reads it standing in the middle of the road.

Like Curly, the letter's simple.

_Curtis,_

_Over here's nothing like I ever expected. We just finished training and a__nyway I look at it, it beats the shit out of being back in Tulsa. But I'll write Tim and tell him how lousy everything is around here. That'll make him happy. _

_Not much more to say._

_Curly_

When he's done, Pony folds the letter back up, thinking how funny it is that Curly Shepard's someplace he never expected and loving it.

*

After two weeks at home, Ponyboy gets a job at the library. It's not much but it gets him out of the house; He can't stand feeling worthless while his brothers go off to work. Day after day, he's surrounded by books, by words, but Pony can't bring himself to pick one up.

And despite the snow, sometimes after work he goes to the track and manages to pull together some semblance of an impressive run. His limbs ache when he's done but he relishes the victory. It's odd but soon Pony starts to notice that he has an audience of one when he runs. A man watches silently from the sidelines and when Pony finishes his last lap he always claps and then leaves.

In a way, it's a relief to slide into monotony, doing what no one wanted _him_ to: the average. Pony's glad for this experience but already the briefest stirrings of wanting something else begin brewing.

*

Soda's giving Darry's truck a tune-up: changing the oil, rotating the tires, switching up his radio stations for good measure. Two-Bit's chattering away about the newest and hottest blonde he's seen at the bar and Steve's complaining about Evie.

Soda flips the lights on, checking the strength. When Soda goes back into the cab to shut them off he notices something. It's stuck underneath the passenger's seat, a long box wrapped in Christmas paper. The tag on it reads: _To Ponyboy_.

*

"Catch." Soda tosses the wrapped gift to his brother.

Caught off guard, Ponyboy opens his hands, managing to awkwardly grip the box. "What's this?" He sits up on the couch, staring at the object.

"Found it in Darry's truck. Under the seat."

Pony's green eyes widen. He tears off the wrapping paper and opens the box to find a silver ballpoint pen inside. There's a piece of paper coiled around the pen.

Pony unfurls it to read: _For when words make sense again._

*

"I found your gift."

"Well, about damn time. What do you think?"

"I hope I get to use it," Pony says.

"You will." Sarah's grip tightens on the receiver as she strains to listen to his voice. "How you been doin lately, baby?"

"Better." Ponyboy nods. "I'm getting there. But sometimes I'm still so confused about what I want to do."

"Confused is good," Sarah laughs. "That means you're thinkin. That means you care."

*

The man is there again. Pony waves and the man waves back. It's an easy relationship, without questions or introductions. Pony wonders why he's there but is glad for the distant company.

He ties his sneakers, stretches and takes off around the track. He's fast, perhaps better than he's ever been and Pony knows why. He's not taking it seriously and it's this that makes him faster.

Then he can't help himself; his mind goes back to college. This would be his time, his semester to run. To show off, as Soda puts it. He's lost in his thoughts, caught up in _what-ifs,_ when his feet tangle and he goes down. To brace himself, he sticks a hand out and when his wrists pops, Pony knows he just made a very unwise decision.

Pony's sitting on his ass, on the red earth of the track, swearing and holding his wrist when there's a light touch on his shoulder. Surprised, he turns to see his lone audience member. The man's older, in his 40's, gray with a grizzled beard.

"Are you okay, kid?"

"Yeah," Pony mutters. "Just great."

"C'mere." The man sticks a hand out and Pony takes it with his good one. When Pony's on his feet he says, "You run real good."

Pony eyes his wrist. "Not anymore, apparently."

"Can you bend it?"

Pony tries, careful to keep his sleeve down. "Some."

"A little ice is all you need. Wrap it up nice and tight."

"I sure hope so." His wrist feels like Jell-O and if he squints just right Pony swears it's doubled in size. Pony looks at the man in front of him. "Hey, thanks for your help."

"Anytime."

Ponyboy smiles. "Why're you always out here?"

The man shifts, sticking grimy hands in his pockets. "Got nothing else to do." He chuckles. "'Sides I used to run a bit myself in my younger days. Nice to see someone doing what they're born for."

Embarrassed, Pony shakes his head. "It's just a hobby. Nothing special."

"Well, that's a shame. Damn talent to waste."

Ponyboy, taken aback by the words of the stranger, blinks in surprise. He tries not to put too much stock in the words. He's done with running track. He is.

The man eyes the sky as Ponyboy shivers. "Best get on home, son." He raises an admonishing brow. "It can be cold out here without a jacket."

*

Pony's still thinking about the man at the track when he slinks inside, keeping his wrist close to him. He heads straight to the bathroom to bandage his wrist when a voice from inside booms, "How was work, Pone?"

It's Darry and Ponyboy curses silently, backing up towards the kitchen.

"Just great, Dar," Pony hollers back, wondering how to avoid his brother until he can get his wrist wrapped. "Spaghetti ok?"

"Great. Alice is coming over for dinner so make enough."

Ponyboy nods to himself.

*

Pony makes it through the entire dinner without a word. He rests his wrist on top of his thigh beneath the table. If anyone notices he's eating with his left hand they don't say anything. They're probably still not used to the fact that he's trying to eat.

"Are you okay, Pony?" Soda asks when dinner's over. "You're quiet tonight."

He nods. All Pony wants to do is get a minute alone to wrap his throbbing wrist. He'll handle it first and then tell Darry.

Ponyboy cleans up the kitchen the best he can while Darry and Soda talk out on the porch, the icy wind mixed with smoke from Soda's cigarette blow through the screen door. Alice hovers in the background. "Are you sure I can't help you, Ponyboy?"

Just when he's telling her he's got it covered, he reaches for a mixing bowl with his right hand, forgetting the wrist. His fingers enclose but they can't grip and the dish smashes to the floor.

"Crap," Ponyboy says, his wrist jumping into the palm of his left hand.

Alice moves away from the glass, eyeing Ponyboy.

"What'd you break?" Darry's voice carries into the kitchen.

"Nothing, I got it, Dar…" Ponyboy kneels, picking up broken glass fragments. Alice disappears down the hallway and then reappears holding a wheel of gauze.

She squats beside Pony, her long blonde hair falling in her face. "What happened?"

"I took a dive on the track."

"Is it broken?"

"Don't think so."

Alice chuckles, gently taking Ponyboy's right hand. "Well, it's very admirable you were able to cook dinner with a sprained wrist. Nice to see you're bullheaded just like your brother."

Before either of them realize it, Alice shoves Pony's sleeve up to his elbow. She stiffens slightly upon seeing the scars and Pony feels this. But he doesn't pull away, letting her wrap the gauze around his wrist tight. When she's finished they both stand.

"I ain't a nurse but that should help some."

Pony's quiet and then asks, "Do they look that bad?" She reaches out to hold Pony's thin arm tight. The scars are obvious but thin. They'll fade.

"No. They're just surprising." Alice smiles. "You think they're worse than they are. And even if they were, no one here would ever care, Ponyboy."

*

Darry eventually is able to corner Ponyboy in his bedroom. "Lemme see."

Ponyboy shows him the bandaged wrist. Darry squeezes it gently and Ponyboy bites back a whimper. Darry scrutinizes it closely. "You might need a brace."

"I'm fine, Dar. I can move it – it's just sore."

A ghost of a smile crosses Darry's face. "So, you went running?"

Shrugging it off, Pony says, "Yeah. Tripped over my own feet and like the genius I am thought I'd cushion my fall."

It takes a lot of restraint for Darry not to tell his brother he's proud of him; for running, for a lot of things. Instead he pats Pony's shoulder. "Don't worry, kiddo, you've done dumber things than this."

Pony snorts. "Don't I know it."

"At least it ain't broken. You'll be okay."

When Darry leaves him, Ponyboy gets the feeling Darry wasn't talking about the wrist.

*

The next night Ponyboy goes back to the track but the man isn't there. He can't stop hearing the words, thinking about the meaning.

Standing near the bleachers, Pony stares out at the deserted track with the tendrils of snow blowing across and the iciness of the air. It's lonely out here but he doesn't mind; it's peaceful too.

Pony blows into his hands to warm them, wishing the man would show. He waits half an hour before finally giving up. Pony's left to wonder if the voice of reason he heard from the mouth of the stranger was nothing but nonsense.

*

Pardon typos.

Please review.


	13. Chapter 13

SE Hinton owns.

Please review…it is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

*

He picks the pen up.

He puts it down again.

Ponyboy's spent his morning making this exact same motion five times. He wants to write something; starting off small. A letter to Curly, maybe a letter to Sarah or Sam, but he just can't. The motion feels too big for him. Even the pen's intimidating with its slick sheen and heavy weight.

Sighing, Pony pushes the pen away from him. He stands up and grabs his tennis shoes.

*

He's done with his run and slipping his jacket on when Pony notices the man on the field. The both wave to each other and approach.

"How's the wrist?" the man asks, a baseball cap pulled down tight on his head, a tattered scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Better." Pony sticks his hands in his pockets to warm them. "Where've you been?"

"Around. Hiding from the hellish weather Tulsa's being heaped upon."

Ponyboy eyes the brewing sky above. It's a glassy gray and he knows Darry's readying himself to shovel the walk in the morning. The weather hasn't let up ever since Pony's been back home. If he read into signs, he would bet it meant something.

The man's words bring Pony back. "Nice to see you brought a jacket this time."

Sheepish, Pony nods. "Yeah, if I forget, my older brother sure doesn't."

"Good to hear."

Ponyboy watches the man for a moment and then curious about the stranger asks, "So, what was your fastest time?"

"Son?"

"You said you used to run, what was your record?"

The man barks out a laugh, turning to walk back the way he came. "Ah, hell, son, my old brain can't remember that far back. Just know I was fast. No one could catch me."

"So then, why'd you quit?"

The man raises a gruff eyebrow. "Who said I quit? Hurt my knee and that was it. Not much else to it." He rubs a hand down his graying beard, appraising Ponyboy. "Why? You thinking about quitting?"

"Already have." Pony meets the man's eyes, surprised he doesn't feel as ashamed as he thought he would.

"That," the man's index finger points to Ponyboy and then swivels to the now-empty track, "ain't quitting. It ain't no hobby. That's just getting started."

*

"How was the run?" Soda asks.

"It's was ok." Ponyboy shrugs, tugging off his track shirt and grabbing the first t-shirt he can find. He plops down on the bed, trying to hide a yawn. Feeling Soda's eyes on him, he suddenly flushes and folds his arms across his chest. The t-shirt's short sleeved.

Soda gives him a look. "You ain't gotta do that."

"Do you think they'll ever go away?" Pony unfurls his arms, holding them out to examine them.

Soda aches for the right answer but not sure there is one, tells the truth. "I don't know, Pone. Do you want them to?"

"Yeah." Pony grimaces. "They're pretty ugly. And besides, when I see them I just remember everything all over."

"Maybe one day that won't be such a bad thing."

Pony considers this. "Maybe."

*

There's a loud sound outside, like scraping a piece of metal against glass, when the front door bursts open and Two-Bit jumps inside, his clothes coated in snow. "Holy smokes on the cross!" He pulls off his floppy winter hat.

"Mornin Two-Bit," Pony greets, twisting around at the kitchen table, spoonful of oatmeal poised near his mouth.

"Mornin kid. Any breakfast left or did you eat it all?"

Pony takes a bite and points at the stove. He swallows and sizes his friend up. "Why're you here so early? I thought you didn't rise before noon."

Two-Bit scoffs. "It's slick as snot out. My truck nearly met a tree and like Santa found baby Jesus, I came back to the manger to dry off."

"There are so many things wrong with that sentence," Ponyboy says with a wince.

"What's wrong?" Darry asks, entering the kitchen.

"Two-Bit's mind," Pony tells Darry.

Darry grins. "Well, that's nothing new." He pats his pockets, searching for his keys. "Say kiddo, you seen the keys to the truck?"

"They're on the coffee table."

"Hot date with Alice?" Two-Bit asks, grabbing the pan of oatmeal.

Darry pours another cup of coffee and leans against the counter. "Um, I was heading to the bookstore to get what I need for my class next week." He glances at Pony carefully. "Do you want to go?"

There's a long beat as Two-Bit pretends to be interested in the tile and then Pony replies, "Sure, Dar."

*

While Darry's searching for his business textbook at the community college bookstore he can't help but keep an eye on Ponyboy. His brother's milling around rows and rows of textbooks trying not to look too uncomfortable but Darry catches a glimpse of the scared kid who came home at Christmas and he hopes it wasn't a mistake to ask him along.

Two-Bit pops into Darry's line of vision. "Is this it?" He shoves a book in Darry's face titled: "The Joys of Human Sexual Anatomy."

Annoyed, Darry grabs the book before anyone can see the two people on the front embracing. "No, Two-Bit, how many times have I told you I'm taking business classes."

"Not sex?"

"No," Darry hisses. "Not sex."

"Well that's just boring. Does Alice know about this?" Two-Bit's eyes flick to Ponyboy and he turns a serious face toward Darry. "Think he needs some cheering up?"

*

Pony wants to touch but he doesn't. The books with their titles are enticing; calling him back to his own college courses at OSU. They weren't so bad, Pony thinks. Everything was ok before he went wrong.

But Pony knows he's itching to go back and that's what scares him. He keeps thinking it will be the same, end the same.

He just has to remind himself that he's home and he doesn't have to go anywhere.

Spotting what he's searching for, Pony reaches out.

*

Darry's frown is permanently ingrained onto his forehead. He's been standing in the same aisle for 15 god-awful minutes trying to find the book or someone to help him when there's movement at his side.

"I think I found it," Pony says in a soft voice, handing Darry a thick textbook.

Darry gives the cover a quick tap. "That's it. Thanks, Pone." He squeezes his brother's arm. "You go round up Two-Bit and I'll check out."

Pony rolls his eyes. "It's like herding a cat."

At the register, Darry makes conversation with the checkout girl, giving her way-too-much cash for a measly textbook. She smiles, bagging the book and as she gives it to him, Darry gets a thought.

"Hey," he says. "Do you by chance have an application for enrollment?"

"We sure do." Giving him a sweet smile, the girl pulls a thin packet from underneath the checkout counter. "Here you are, sir."

Darry thanks her and as he takes the thin application Darry wonders what in the hell he's doing.

*

He fills out Ponyboy's name and that's it.

Then he buries the application in his sock drawer. He tells Alice and Soda; Alice thinks it's a step in the right direction, Soda thinks it's too soon and the only person who can tell Darry what he really thinks has no idea.

Darry doesn't know what he'll do with it. He just knows he won't push; he's already done enough of that. He'll wait until Ponyboy wants it. His brother can start off small with community college or he can work at the library the rest of his life. Darry doesn't care anymore. He's just glad Ponyboy's still around.

Darry Curtis never thought his youngest brother would reduce him to hiding a college application in his sock drawer.

*

Soda starts to notice a change in his youngest brother. It's slight but it's there. So slight it's doubtful Ponyboy really notices but Soda and Darry sure do.

His sprained wrist isn't keeping Ponyboy from the track and every night when Ponyboy breezes through the front door, flushed from his latest run and grinning that crooked smile of his, Soda knows he's finding his groove.

And it's late on a Friday night when Soda's really caught off guard. He's coming in from the garage, ready for a beer and a shower when he finds his brother.

Ponyboy's reading. Not just aimlessly flipping through the pages of a book but actually sitting on the couch, intent on the words.

"What're you doing, kiddo?" Soda asks.

Ponyboy glances up. "Nothin." He shuts the book, showing Soda the cover. "Found this old book of Darry's. It's kind of boring really."

"Sounds like Darry five years ago."

Pony grins. "What? The old part or the boring part?"

Soda chuckles. "We're going to hell."

"Only if Darry hears us."

Soda points at him. "Right you are." He leaves Pony to get a beer from the fridge and when he returns Pony has his nose stuck in the book again.

"I thought you said it was boring?" Soda cracks the beer open.

Pony gives him a befuddled look. "That doesn't mean I ain't gonna finish it." At this, Soda just wants to laugh until he cries.

*

Pardon typos.

Please review!

Last chapter is in progress…perhaps to be posted today…?


	14. Chapter 14

Last chapter.

Please review!

SE Hinton owns.

*

"Thanks for the ride, Two-Bit."

Checking his blind spot, Two-Bit pulls away from the curb, leaving the library behind them. "Sure thing, kid. Although, I really ain't aimin to be your personal chauffeur. Unless you reward me handsomely with tips."

"I have a tip for you, Two-Bit. Trim the sideburns."

"I swear you are gettin mouthier by the day." Two-Bit fiddles with the radio while Pony stares out the window into the gray skies of Tulsa. Two-Bit takes in Ponyboy's happier and healthier appearance and Two-Bit has to admit he was mighty worried a month or so.

"Say kid, you thinkin of sticking around here for a while?"

"Seems that way…"

"Keep working at the library?"

"Maybe…"

"Hmmm…a _maybe_. I like the indecisiveness of that." Two-Bit drums his hands on the steering wheel, stealing a questioning glance at his friend. "So…if not the library…?"

Laughing, Ponyboy waves off Two-Bit's prodding questions. "What's with the inquisition? Taking lessons from Darry?"

"Shoot," Two-Bit says, "If anything, I teach Darry lessons."

"Like not to let you in the house?"

Grinning, Two-Bit clears his throat. "Well for what it's worth…I'm glad you're back. It was getting boring without you around."

Pony smiles, resting his head against the passenger side window. "Thanks, man."

*

Ponyboy finds the community college application.

Needing some clean socks to run in, he rummages through Darry's drawer, pulling out a stack. Dumping the mountain of socks on the bed, the application, sandwiched between the pile, flutters out and hits the floor. Pony bends down to get the fallen paper, his oblivious eyes scanning the form. Finally realizing what he's reading, his name printed in bold letters at the top, a familiar fear hits him.

Pony licks his lips and carefully buries the application back in Darry's dresser. Gingerly, he shuts the dresser door and goes to the kitchen to make dinner.

*

The rice is burned and he doesn't even know how he did it. He drops the spoon, flecks of rice flying everywhere. Groaning, Ponyboy gives up and backs against the counter. The last month has been harder than anything he's ever done and finally, just finally, he felt he was catching up to himself.

He's read a book, goddamnit. A whole, horrible, practical book that he knows Darry just loved back in high school.

But the sight of the college application has felled him, called into question everything he's built back up. Pony's mind whirls, going back to OSU, the beer, Sarah, the lies. It's at this time he feels the panic attack coming on quick. Clenching his eyes tight, Pony grips the counter. _He won't do this_, he tells himself. _Give me this much_.

And surprisingly, after two agonizing minutes of fighting, it goes away. Pony lets a breath out. The calmness is comforting if not predicted.

*

The letter comes on a gray, snowy day. The kind of day meant for staying in. Pony grabs the mail in one swift motion, slamming the mailbox shut. He tosses the stack of bills on the table and doesn't touch it until Darry comes home and tells him that he has a letter.

Still he forgets about it until dinner's over and then as an afterthought picks it up on the way to his bedroom. Ponyboy reads it and even though he and Curly were never close, never what he'd call 'friends', it still leaves Ponyboy shaken. He goes outside to think, ignoring his jacket.

The letter's long this time, full of run-on sentences betraying Curly's nerves. He got shot; not the million-dollar wound or anything close, but close enough for Curly to get a perspective. _Life's short_, Curly writes. _You would have thought I would have known that by now, huh Curtis?_

Pony looks back at the house, frozen in the snow and he wonders what he's waiting for. He's tried to quit for the longest time and so far he's still going. It's not strong but it's a beat.

It's at this time Ponyboy manages to grab some perspective.

*

He did it. He feels out of place and way too young to be here but he made it to campus. School's been in session for two weeks and it's eerie being on a college campus again. Letting out a breath like he's just been socked in the stomach, Pony folds a University of Oklahoma application up into a small square and shoves it in his back pocket.

Ponyboy quickly walks away from the admissions office and down into the hall littered with students.

*

The man with the swagger spots the kid from the track. The boy's passing by the library, glancing at the books. His wrist is not bandaged anymore and there's a small smile on his face. The man walks up to him.

"Hey son."

Ponyboy blinks and lets out a chuckle. He hasn't seen the man from the track for nearly two weeks. "Glory. What're you doing here?"

"I teach History 101." The man grins, his bushy beard moving in sync with his smile. "And I'm the track coach. Bob Harris."

Ponyboy shakes his hand, looking perplexed. "Ponyboy Curtis."

"I heard about you," Bob says.

"You and everyone else," Pony says with a grimace, thinking of the news articles about him, Dallas and Johnny.

"About your running that is," Bob clarifies. "You won finals at Will Rogers."

"What were _you_ doing at the track? Hang around there for kicks?"

"When school's on break I make it my business to get in some quality time with the high school kids. Sniff out talent. Don't tell anyone but I'm a spy." Pony snorts and Harris eyes him. "Only you weren't in high school."

"No," Pony replies. "I'm not."

"I got that feeling. Burnt out, something like that."

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, I hope that something's worth it."

"I don't know anymore," Pony admits, shaking his head.

"Who really does? Anyone who claims that is bullshitting you." Bob says with a hearty laugh. "You'll figure it out. And when you do, come find me."

Bob leaves Ponyboy thinking that perspective ain't what it's all cracked up to be.

*

Immediately after leaving campus, Ponyboy goes home, changes and hits the road.

Pony trades the track for running on the side of the road, needing to feel as if he's going somewhere instead of around in circles. It works and soon he's feeling calmer and clearer in the head. He's been so used to being down Ponyboy hasn't realized his bounce back to reality.

Footsteps echo around him as he plods the sparse road, kicking up slush and mud from the most recent snow. It's later than he usually runs and the chilly night air swirls up to remind him of this. When he sees the _Tulsa City Limits_ sign, Pony knows it's time to turn back.

An hour later, he's nearly halfway home, thinking hard about the scars on his arms and his next move, when the car comes out of nowhere. The driver, unaware of the runner on the road, lets his car veer a little too much onto the shoulder of the road.

The car almost clips Ponyboy but before it does he manages to jump into the ditch on the side of the road. He's tossed head over heels down the steep slope, mixing with the snow and the mud. It's only when a tree cushions his fall does he stop.

Ponyboy groans, twisting away from the tree trunk, which has so nicely left its mark on his hip. There's mud and snow in his mouth and his eyes and his body's soaked to the bone.

A faint rustling sounds somewhere above him and suddenly a cop sticks his face in Ponyboy's line of vision. "You okay kid? Hell, I didn't even see you running on the side—"

"You're fuzz?" Ponyboy asks with a laugh, spitting snow from his mouth. The cop looks confused and Ponyboy can't wait to tell Two-Bit that the good ol' Tulsa Police are at it again; taking out greasers left and right.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can walk." Ponyboy sits up, pulling a clump of mud out of his hair. He looks up at the sky and breathes out.

Now annoyed, the cop props his hands on his hips. "Well, what're you waiting for? C'mon kid, are you going to get off your ass and get up?" Ponyboy starts at the words and then eschewing the cop's hand, he stands on his own.

*

When Darry gets home from Alice's house he doesn't know what to think. Muddy footsteps lead from the front door to downstairs. "Sodapop?" he calls out, ready to accuse the one person capable of making such an unholy mess.

*

Downstairs, Ponyboy sits amid ripped open boxes of leftover college stuff: a notebook from English 101, a binder from Astronomy class, old homework assignments, a few photos with his old roommate.

Items forcing him to remember.

Although reviewing his past isn't getting him in the mood for school back in Tulsa it sure is jogging the worst of his memory. And now that he has everything strewn across the floor, Ponyboy isn't so sure remembering was such a bright idea.

"Damn," he says, staring at the scribbled notebooks.

"What are you doing, Ponyboy?" a voice asks behind him. Ponyboy turns to see Darry. Taking a closer look, Darry amends his statement: "What the hell happened to you?" His brother sits in a puddle of snow and mud, hair sticking up in every direction and looking like he took a pretty good beating.

"I went running."

"And what? Did you fall down a storm drain?"

"A ditch, but that's pretty close."

Darry watches him and then asks in a low voice, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I think I know what I want to do, Dar." Ponyboy speaks slowly, like he's measuring each word carefully.

Darry, not sure what he wants to hear, asks, "What's that, kiddo?"

"I want to try again with school, with running…but it's hard. I keep thinking about this," he gestures at the menagerie of school stuff, "and this," he shoves up a sleeve, showing his scar. Darry tries not to wince.

Pony glances at Darry under his mess of hair. "I went to the University of Oklahoma today." Surprised, Darry blinks and Pony continues. "I talked to someone in admissions. I don't know though. I'm worried I might chicken out."

"It's okay if you do."

"Yeah, I know."

"You don't have to go back."

"I know."

"What changed your mind?"

"Perspective maybe? I don't know." Pony sighs, looking over the confusion on the floor. "Don't you wish you could go back in time? Or even erase stuff?"

Darry takes a seat on the last step. "You know I do, kiddo. More than anyone." Pony gives him a small, understanding smile and Darry racks his brain hard about what to do. Pony's come far and he's nearly there. Darry can't put into words how proud – how thankful – he is that Pony's even thinking about school again.

Flipping through an old notebook, Ponyboy utters a laugh. "Oh man, my writing was terrible…let's just erase _that_." He throws the notebook back into the pile and grabs another for review.

Darry smears his face in his hands and an irrational idea hits him. "Pony," Darry begins. "Do you still have that lighter on you?"

Pony frowns and then pats his pockets. "Yeah, you want it?"

"Yeah."

Ponyboy tosses it and Darry catches it in one firm grip.

*

"Toss 'em in."

"Are you sure, Dar?"

"Do it, Pony. Whatever you want."

"Not the books."

Darry laughs. "Of course."

Ponyboy, his arms full of notebooks and papers and pencils and pens from the boxes, dumps the contents in the tin trashcan sitting in the middle of the backyard lawn. He watches Darry pour the lighter fluid on the stack like water from a hose. When he's done he throws the canister in the snow.

Darry doesn't know if his harebrained idea will help but he's doing his best to fix what he can. Darry flicks the lighter open and holds it out to his brother. "Go ahead, kiddo."

Pony's eyes are alive, the green lit up by the flame so bright that Darry wonders how he ever thought they were gray. Ponyboy grins at Darry and takes the lighter. "I can't believe we're doing this," he murmurs before sending the lighter into trashcan with a flourish. It lands in the pile and the fire explodes, shooting up into the air and lighting up the backyard like it's the fourth of July.

*

Steve and Soda, having pulled into the driveway, stare at the enormous fireball that has just erupted from the backyard of the Curtis house. Soda gawks, pressing a hand against the image of the flame projected on the windshield.

Steve frowns. "Hate to tell you this buddy but I think your house is on fire."

"Holy shit!"

Soda scrambles out of the truck, Steve following. When they reach the backyard, Ponyboy and Darry are watching the leaping fire with wide eyes. As the shadows and flames dance off of his brothers, Soda sees that Ponyboy's covered in mud, his face marked up like a greased football players'. Darry looks as loose as Soda's ever seen him. The now-empty boxes from Pony's dorm room litter the ground.

"I think they forgot the marshmallows," Steve tells Soda as they dart over to them. Soda grabs Pony's arm.

"Are you nuts? What're you doing, Darry?"

"I really don't know, Soda," Darry says with a laugh. "Burning stuff?" Ponyboy laughs too, covering his mouth as he watches the flames. And Soda really sees his brother then.

The kid he was and the kid he will be: whole.

*

Sarah calls the house a week later to check on Ponyboy. Earlier in the week, he described the backyard bonfire with such giddy appreciation that Sarah marvels it was as easy as that. Whatever Darry did worked.

Sarah lets the phone ring about ten times and is ready to hang up when there's a fast, "Hello?"

She's quiet and then ventures a guess. "Darry? This is Sarah Morrow."

"Pony's not here," Darry says curtly. "He went out for the afternoon. I'll tell him you called."

"Darry, wait," Sarah says before he can hang up. "You know you done a real good thing." And even though Sarah's never met him, she can feel Darry Curtis smile over the phone.

*

"Where's your brother?" Darry asks Soda as Alice slips inside, arms full of groceries.

"At the track I think," Soda responds, engrossed in the poker game Steve and Two-Bit have going on.

An hour passes, the house brimming with chaos. Alice and Two-Bit are bickering about the best way to make an apple pie while Soda and Steve keep running back and forth from the garage to the living room, ignoring Darry's repetitive question of: "What'd you break?"

When Ponyboy gets home from the track, he's dizzy from running. "Go change," Darry says. "Dinner's almost ready." Pausing, Darry turns, eyeing him surreptitiously. "You look happy."

Darry stuffs his hands in his pockets and Ponyboy knows he's worrying. "That's a good thing, Dar. Stop looking nervous."

"That's a great thing, kiddo."

Pony goes to change, tossing on a t-shirt. The scars aren't gone, faded slightly to a thin line but he pays them no heed. He grabs up a pair of ragged jeans from the floor, slipping them on. They're the pair he wore when he went to the University of Oklahoma and remembering the application, Ponyboy pulls it out from his back pocket. He unfolds it, smoothing out the creases. He grabs something from his desk and leaves the room.

"I love it when Alice comes over," Two-Bit is whispering loudly when Ponyboy rejoins his family. "She cooks for _all_ of us." Smells of chicken and mashed potatoes drift around the house.

"I heard that!" Alice calls out, a laugh in her throat. Darry smacks Two-Bit on the side of the head.

"Shit, man!" Two-Bit screeches. "That's abuse."

"Yeah, you need it!" Steve hollers from the living room.

"Alice's going to poison your food, Two-Bit," Ponyboy says, sitting down at the kitchen table.

Alice winks at him. "Thanks for the idea, Ponyboy."

"Ah, the kid's just full of bright ideas," Two-Bit says, ruffling Pony's hair with exaggerated force. "This one time a band of ninjas—"

"Get out of here, Two-Bit," Darry says with an annoyed laugh. He hands a spatula to Alice who promptly points it at Two-Bit.

"You are thus banned from this kitchen."

Two-Bit shrugs. "Fine. I know when I'm not wanted. I'll go play with Steve and Sodapop." Two-Bit leaves, thundering into the living room and then pops back in the kitchen. "I still get to eat right?"

Ducking his head to hide a smile, Ponyboy sets the application and the pen Sarah has given him on the tabletop. He writes his first and last name down, the pen gliding smoothly across the paper. This time he's able to write. He finishes the whole application and when he's done examines it curiously.

"Are you sure?" Darry asks, coming over once he spies the application and his brother huddled at the table.

"I think so," Ponyboy says, capping the pen. He thinks of Bob Harris's offer, the scholarships he'll have to apply for, living with Darry and Soda again and really wants to do it all. He wants to try. He wants to get back.

"I'm real glad, kiddo." Darry reaches out to squeeze his brother's arm and then goes back to Alice, grinning like a proud fool. Soda bounds over to Darry and by the way Soda keeps throwing Ponyboy small smiles he knows Darry has told Soda about the completed application.

Ponyboy surveys the people in his house and sits back in the chair. There was a time when he would have wished for his parents; their help, their advice, their comfort. But everyone here has done it all. The house just feels good; warm and alive.

Ponyboy starts to think he can do this.

In fact, he knows he can.

*

The end! Finally!

Thanks to everyone for reading and putting up with the long wait between updates. I enjoyed writing this and really appreciate everyone's feedback and taking the time to read.

Special thanks to Calla who let me bounce ideas off of her and just spurred me on when I was stuck. You rock.

Thanks again. Pardon typos.

*


End file.
